


Dirty Paws

by WeOffendedShadows



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, F/F, Femslash, G!P, Girl!Peen, Prompt Fic, Smut, Were!Peen, were!tiger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 124,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeOffendedShadows/pseuds/WeOffendedShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Berry was not afraid of anything. She had to repeat this mantra to herself as she ran away as fast as her short legs could carry her. The elliptical had prepared her endurance, but never for speed, and even then, she felt her knees start to ache, her legs burn, and her breathe shorten. It wouldn't be long before it caught up with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The chase

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of things: this work is inspired by the fanart of konako( http://konako.tumblr.com/post/59522273734 / http://konako.tumblr.com/post/59067079455 / http://konako.tumblr.com/post/59053589271 / http://konako.tumblr.com/post/58939202068 / http://konako.tumblr.com/post/59728073452 ) who posts some amazing pictures and I felt i just had to write something.  
> Two: this started off as straight smut one-shot, but I can't do dub-con, so it transformed into fluff and now multichapter. Oh well.  
> Three: reviews always welcomed

October 31st

Rachel Berry was not afraid of anything. She had to repeat this mantra to herself as she ran away as fast as her short legs could carry her. The elliptical had prepared her endurance, but never for speed, and even then, she felt her knees start to ache, her legs burn, and her breathe shorten. It wouldn't be long before it caught up with her.

Halloween of all nights, she had to cut through the forest to get home. Didn't she learn anything from those stupid horror films Santana forced them to watch. Rachel was an avid reader of tvtropes and should have known better. As a virgin, she certainly should avoid dark, cold places where serial killers liked to hang out as well as the various monsters on the films that didn't exist except for the one chasing her, which was faster than she expected, smarter than she wanted, and Barbara, bigger than she could have imagined.

She wheezed and weaved her way through the trees, trying to just avoid the low branches and knots, but stupid Lima and it's stupid forest preserve and-

Rachel tumbled ass over tea kettle as her feet found the one boulder in the entire forest that her eyes could not see through the full moon. She considered herself lucky as she slid on the relatively empty forest floor - how strange - and coming to a stop right in front of some large tree. Oak? Pine? Christmas tree? This wasn't covered in biology class and what little they did talk about plants was worthless given the focus on the animals. She scurried to her knees and crawled around the large tree-plant-thingy and sat against the bark. Breathing was hard, much harder than singing. This wasn't normally true, but Rachel felt that running through the forest in Barbara knows what direction from some kind of monster-creature right out of her dreams entitled her to such thoughts. It was only fair.

Her legs pushed her against the tree, trying to meld into it so that she was hidden. Rachel wanted to run more, to get up and flee as quick as possible from the much nearer monster, but her body refused. Her lungs burned as they tried to suck as much air into her as possible with each breath, and the breathing exercises she trained ehrself to do before each performance to calm herself fled her mind as quickly as her feet did early, who also refused to work. "Betrayed by my own body." Had she not needed them for dancing, she would have hung her feet at the gallows for such actions. They truly deserved it.

A branch snapped, and Rachel froze. Her arms and legs had pushed her so hard against the tree-plant-thingie that her butt hung in the air. She couldn't breathe, even the deep gulps of air were gone.

It had found her. The thing that had first caught sight of her, she was so certain, outside Puck's place, when she left through the back door in hopes of escaping the horribly drunk jocks there who seemed only interested in grabbing her ass, pressing themselves against her breasts, all the while breathing in horrible beer breath. The party sucked and she was alone in her dislike in it. Every other gleek enjoyed themselves, and once again Rachel was left by herself to defend herself. Hence leaving early and apparently getting stalked by some crazy psycho monster killer beast thingie

Rachel pulled her knees under her and turned so she could look around the tree. The pale full moon gave enough light, even in the sparse forest, for her to see nothing. Nothing was there chasing her; no monster waited for her around the tree to grab and eat her. Rachel giggled and released her breathe: it was silly after all, just her imagination of the harsh breathing, the swift, almost silent, pounding of something as it stalked her. She sat back down, her back pressing against the tree once more and arms wrapped around her knees. It was silly to think that something would care that much about her to play the-  
She opened her eyes and stared at the closed maw of some cat-like beast before her. Mist formed out of its nose as it breathed onto her. Onto her. The thing was so close that its nose almost touched hers. The beast stepped forward and pushed its face into her hair. Whiskers grazed her cheek, and Rachel fought a smile down. This was not a good thing; it took a deep breath in and exhaled against her ear. She sighed and almost leaned towards it, but paused as it pulled away, feeling soft fur rub her face as it did so.

The creature sat down close to her, so its front paws were touching her feet. Rachel looked closely at the creature now, trying to understand just what it was that tracked her and why it wasn't killing her(thought she was thankful for that little aspect). It was a tiger, or at least, what she could understand a tiger would be if it was an actual Siberian tiger, but much larger and bulkier than anything she saw at the zoo, though it was probably just a gross miss-representation as she was much closer to this animal than she ever was at the zoo. The thing's shoulders were almost a yard wide, and if it's height was any indication of how long it was, Rachel feared for her safety. The tiger stood at least a eight feet tall, and stared down at her, trying to size her up she bet. Determining just what was the most tasty part of her that it wished to-

"Oh my Barbara," She gasped as her eyes drifted down its belly to the partially unsheathed penis. Rachel figured he was the appropriate gender moniker for the tiger.

He titled his head and looked at her. The stripes glowed, with what Rachel figured should be orange became a yellowish color, somewhere in between yellow and white. She frowned at her inner dialogue, why couldn't she have known more colors. it wasn't like music and singing and dancing took up so much space in her head that colors were unknown to her. Stupid brain for being so limited. She should fix that.

The tiger had moved into her personal space again. Rachel also should pay attention more, she figured, rather than focusing on-

"Hey," she said, and brought her hands up as he began to sniff at her, rubbing his nose on her chest, slobbering on it. "This is a rental."

She wore a black and red cheer-leading outfit that looked somewhat similar to the daily wear of the Cheerios. Santana had dared her to wear something like it, even picked it out for her. Said live a little. Might actually get the attention of some boy besides Finnosarous, or whatever negative moniker she used. Santana had many. Brittany was highly enthused about the costume. Quinn had just smiled at her.  
The tiger continued to sniff at her, pushing her arms up as it went for her arm pits, grazed across her neck(where Rachel shivered as the hot breathe pulsed along her pulse), then her chest again, pausing at her breasts.

She breathing was heavy, pushing her chest up against his snout,and Rachel didn't know why. She refused to think why. Because it was wrong. Rachel was certain of it, and it was certain that this tiger was just trying to decide what part to eat of her first. She wish she could run away, but somewhere in her mind, she knew that tigers sprinted faster than humans. It would be stupid for her to run. Rachel just wanted to tiger to-

"Oh, fuck." The tiger had shifted down to her relatively non-existent skirt and was trying to stick his nose underneath. "No," she said, trying to push his face away. "No!"

The tiger pulled back and sat down again, this time closer to her. He lowered his head and looked at her, tilting his head back and forth, trying to understand her. Rachel felt revitalized by her exclamation. She stood up slowly, eyes focused on the tiger's. "Bad tiger," she said.

Standing now, she notice that he wasn't as big as she thought it was, maybe only three, three and half, feet sitting down. Standing now, she was just taller than him. "Bad tiger," Rachel repeated. The tiger lowered his head, and averted his eyes. He was ashamed; and she smiled at that. "You do not force yourself on others like you were going to do."

The tiger shook his head.

"Oh no?" She asked. "What do you call pushing yourself underneath my skirt?"

He smiled a toothy smile.

"You are not going to eat me, and you are not going to eat me," Rachel stood with her hands on her hips, trying to emulate her best Quinn-glare that she could. Cheerleader uniforms were empowering, she decided. "Understand?"

The tiger nodded, though still smiled.

"Good," Rachel replied. She stood for a bit, looking at the tiger. Neither moved underneath the moonlight, and Rachel let out a slow breathe. Her heart no longer pounded her chest rather hard, and her limbs started to shake. The wind blew through the forest, and even behind a tree-plant, Rachel shivered. The tiger stood up again and stepped forward towards. "What did I tell you?"

He didn't stop.

"Please?" Rachel stepped back, and felt the plant-tree again.

The tiger stepped so he was almost touching her.

"You are not going to-" Rachel nearly fell over as the tiger sat down nearly on her. "What are you doing?" He lied down, taking her with him. He curled around her, so she was underneath him, but not crushed by his weight. Her head rested on one of his forelimbs, which was rather taught and she could only guess strong. He was really, really warm, with his legs over hers, hiding her almost now frozen toes. "oh."

The tiger released a breathe and shifted back and forth before settling as close as possible to Rachel, hugging her to his body. He wanted to keep her, apparently. "I don't- What do you want with me?" Which was stupid to ask, she realized. The tiger couldn't speak. In fact, she didn't know if the tiger even understood her. "Are you going to eat me?"

He shook his large head, which moved a mane of sorts, and Rachel found that little part of him adorable. A tiger with a mane, so cute.

"Are you - Do you want to keep me warm?"

He nodded, and Rachel giggled as the fur tickled her face.

"Thank you, I guess," she said. The tiger's heart beat, despite his size, seemed to match her own. She yawned and turned into the giant fur ball-blanket that pulled her closer. It was late, and she was tired, and the tiger probably wasn't going to let her go home. Maybe she could wake up early and slip away before he noticed. At least he was warm.

"Well, we'll talk tomorrow," she said, her words stretching out with another yawn. "Night, tiger." She lightly took some fur in her hand and promptly fell asleep, a little snore escaping her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel yawned and pulled her body pillow closer to herself. It shivered and shook, and frankly, it was annoying her when she actually wanted to sleep in. While five days a week she had devoted herself to being up early and exercising and generally the best she could, Brittany explained that she would hurt herself if she continued at that pace, and she didn't want to see that. So Santana threatened Rachel to slow down and relax. One of the benefits of having friends she supposed.

June 1st

Rachel stood in the beauty aisle at Buehler's, looking at the various dyes and bleaching products, weighing them both physically and metaphorically, because metaphors were important. Three weeks of summer break had already passed, and she was bored of her current schedule. Not so much the singing and dancing and acting, but the lack of people in her life. She sat down the first day of break, made a schedule that included socialization time, ensuring that her time was spent efficiently and effectively. A problem arose when no one else seemed interested in spending time with her, or if they were, which Rachel figured they were just being polite, her acquaintances were just being polite. 

Because that was the best definition she could determine at the moment. No, she didn't want darker hair, maybe highlights, which meant the choices on her left were out. They weren't her friends, because, from every definition she could determine through research involving both dictionaries and the internet, the people hung out with at school didn't seem interested in spending time with her. Even her boyfriend avoided her, which was okay, she guessed, at least they texted and talked almost nightly, maybe. Just not that often this past week. Which was okay. It was fine, and she wasn't upset by it. 

No, animal testing, not kosher. Kurt talked to her occasionally and met for coffee when it was good for him, and it was just expected that she would drop what she was doing. Mercedes was spending time with Sam before he left, while the rest of the Gleeks had found themselves busy with various other things and plans, and certainly activities that did not concern her. 

Rachel had a taste of friendship her junior year, and enjoyed the emotions and support greatly. Even though she was a bit of a diva, she wanted to continue that experience and turn the friendly acquaintances into more. The how as difficult to figure out. She wasn't very likable, and she was aware of how aggressive and controlling she could when she got excited about things. It hurt, the react from people she knew, but it was okay. One day, Rachel Barbara Berry would be a household name; she would be famous and amazing and eventually loved. Rachel just had to repeat it to herself and tell herself that her future would be enough. It had to be. Until it wasn't.

She wiped a tear away, and put the bleach back on the shelf. Maybe blonde wasn't the way to go, what about pink or oh, blue tips, that could be-

Rachel turned to look down the rest of the aisle straight into the chest of Santana Lopez, almost falling over as she tried to avoid touching the girl. She looked around, taking in her surroundings and attempted to determine the quickest means of escape. The problem was that Santana wasn't alone; the other two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity. “I-um-why-” Her words failed her, which was fine, because she mind failed her as well, leaving her with no thoughts or anything to deal with her worst tormentors in high school.

While Glee had lessen the names and taunts and general hatred to the diva, Rachel had found, despite numerous, well-intended, awkward extending of the olive branch in pleas of friendship had fallen on two pairs of deaf ears. Brittany at least seemed interesting in befriending her, but didn't want to go against her pseudo-girlfriend slash best friend, leaving Rachel once again an outcast, even in the group of people who were just losers like her. 

The girls had dressed in somewhat normal clothing, though the low tank-top and extremely short shorts on Santana bordered on indecency. Quinn was dressed in a lovely pale yellow summer dress, her shoulders bare and perfectly smooth. Brittany modeled tights that ended at her shins and a shirt that barely hung on her shoulders, showing no bra. Alone, without any of her normal protections like an animal-sweater or stars, or anything really. Not that they worked, but it was the thought that counted, right? She had come straight from a dance lesson, and was tired and didn't bother to change out of her work-out cloths, something that seemed foolish now. 

“What up, hobbs,” Santana asked, smirking at her. Brittany reached down and picked up a box that Rachel must have dropped or held on and didn't realize it or knocked over. 

“Oh, you want to be a blonde?” Brittany asked, examining the model on the front cover of the box. “You sure? Because, its more trouble than its worth. Especially with how it drains your brain.”

The smirk that embodied Santana disappeared as her attention turned to the taller girl. “Excuse me? Who told you that, B?” Brittany lost her smile and looked away. “Was it man-hands here, she tell you that bullshit idea?”

“No, Tana,” Brittany said, her voice barely audible. “It wasn't Rachel.”

“I'll deal with this later, first things first,” Santana said, the glare now focused onto Rachel. She fought a shiver of fear, and tried not to look into the girl's eyes. “I want to know what makes you think a simple dye-job would make you even remotely attractive, dwarf? You think that it's that simple?” Rachel focused on the Latina, refusing to let the vocal abuse - 

“Even in glee, you still are dragging us down into loserville with you, which despite your extremely short stature and child like proportions that make a pedophile cream his pants, it's a fantastic accomplishment. I mean, the schnoz and that mustaches you delude yourself into being small is enough to distract me at times, since I can't seem to focus on anything except the middle of your face, except when you open your mouth, however small it may be, which probably upsets Finnocence since you can't even fit his pinky into it, releases out a tone that can destroy the will to live.” Santana paused for a breathe, before continuing her tirade against the little diva.

She had hard these things before, in many different ways, often accompanied by a slushie, though rarely were they direct at her face, and certainly never this many at one time. Some part of her wanted to shrink down into herself, avoiding the looks of hatred and disgust that were so common at school. But she was away from that hellhole, if she could be so bold. Rachel was suppose to be safe and free from that. Santana ignored that Rachel was ignoring her, but it wasn't exactly ignoring. It was despair and sadness stepping over the line where it was just too much.

“Fuck you,” Rachel said, interrupting Santana midword and hand wave, which almost brought a smile to her face, but she was tired of it. There was no rage: her body did not shake, or pulse race, or eyes focused on anyone. In fact, she closed her eyes. Rachel was too tired to keep them open. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said, Fuck you,” Rachel replied. In a penny, in a pound, she figured. It wasn't like she wasn't going to get slapped, so at the very least, she wanted to get her say in, however mean and cruel it would be, even if it wasn't her.

“Oh you did-”

“I did, because you are a bitch, no that's insulting to female dogs, you are fucking slut; you can't say thing a single thing that isn't vitriolic or destructive.” Rachel leaned against the aisle, and fought to stand up. She was exhausted. “You are hatred incarnate and can't begin to understand anything that doesn't hurt or is enjoyable. You have sex with so many people probably because somehow you think the physical tingle you get from a mediocre orgasm will ever mimic what actual happiness feels like. A bitch at least will understand loyalty and love and devotion, while you-” A giggle interrupted her and Rachel opened her eyes to the surprised look on Santana's face.

“That was so hot,” Brittany said, but Rachel kept her eyes on the Latina, in fear of retribution. “Wasn't it, Tana?”

Santana's surprised look slide slowly into a smirk, like a wolf who had found a weak, tired bunny and was ready for a meal. “Took you long enough, Berry.”

“I resent- What?” Rachel said. She was not expecting approval. Or happiness if she was reading the emotion right. Or anything remotely positive. “What do...huh?”

“She's not bad when she shuts up,” Santana continued, giving her a quick glance up and down. “I'm sure we can make this work, right Q?” Rachel spun to look at head cheerleader. 

Quinn hadn't changed much since New York: short and chopped hair that just sat around her face, drawing the attention to her, without revealing anything. She wore no make up, no lipstick, nothing to hide her face. The smile was new though; a real small that lightened up everything about the blonde. It was nice to see. The former head cheerleader just nodded.

“Good, come,” Santana said, picking Rachel up by one arm and Brittany did the other. They were carrying her out the store before she realized that she dropped her bag and- oh, Quinn picked it up and was behind them, with that damn smile on her face. 

“Wait, are you kidnapping me?” Rachel asked. Her fathers had wished that she took self-defense in order to ensure her safety, but she decided that the time spent in a dojo could be spent in a studio instead. Stupid choice. “I'll have you know-”

“Relax, Berry,” Santana said, “We're not kidnapping you, we're taking you out to lunch. It'll be fun.” 

Rachel frowned as they carried her to a car; the Unholy Trio would never want to take her any place that didn't involve her humiliation. In fact, she had a hard time convincing herself that they weren't going to take her to some deserted area, probably a forest and finally make her disappear, as often they wished. Rachel backed away from the passenger side door as Brittany entered and then the driver's side, pulling herself in as much as possible, hoping to put some distance between her and the girls. 

“My..my..what about...” she said. She couldn't breathe, the air was so stale and stiff and it tasted horrible, oh Barbara, was that bile, she was going to be sick, her stomach was churning, boiling over and bouncing up and down, though she didn't move, oh my Barbara, the room was darkening, it spun around and around and around-

“Breathe, Rachel,” Quinn said, cupped her head and stroked her cheek, “It's okay. I promise.”

******

November 1st 

Rachel yawned and pulled her body pillow closer to herself. It shivered and shook, and frankly, it was annoying her when she actually wanted to sleep in. While five days a week she had devoted herself to being up early and exercising and generally the best she could, Brittany explained that she would hurt herself if she continued at that pace, and she didn't want to see that. So Santana threatened Rachel to slow down and relax. One of the benefits of having friends she supposed. 

“Aww,” Brittany's voice echoed through her dream, “They look so cute together.” Rarely did she dream about that blonde, but it happened before and Rachel wouldn't complain about those dreams. 

The body pillow shivered again as a breeze caressed her. Rachel shifted to her side and pulled it closer, burrowing her face into its neck. It also shifted and caressed her leg with it's own. She decided it felt nice, and this dream could continue as long as possible. The body pillow was warm, though it shivered constantly, which shook Rachel and would wake her up. She tightened her grip, move her head so it was just under its, and pressed her chest against, trying to share their heat.

“We should take a picture,” Santana's echoed somewhere. “You know, for blackmail and shit.”

“That is a mean thing to say,” Brittany replied. 

“It'd be funny, though,” Santana said. The two would not let her sleep. Why were they even in her bedroom this early. The sun was doing nothing to keep her warm. Usually five or six blankets did that. But she had none, here, apparently, which was stupid and inconsiderate of wherever she was. That is a problem that should be fixed. 

The leg continued to move, and despite the cold, Rachel felt a warmth between her and her pillow. It felt physically stiff, but texturally soft, which was an interesting combination, but still, it made her warmer and she wasn't going to complain. She pressed hard against it and her pillow moaned, its chin pressing down on her head so Rachel was forced down a little bit, her mouth just about the clavicle of her pillow. 

“Standard bet says she freaks,” Santana said. 

“She who?”

“Berry. Berry'll freak.”

“Kay, sounds fun.” 

The stiff, warm rod continued to move against her stomach, and Rachel smiled against the soft skin. This dream was wonderful, and never had her body pillow...felt...like...She opened her eyes and stared at the pale, perfect skin that was pressed to her face. Arms wrapped themselves around her head and the legs tangled with her. The thing, well, things that interested her the most was what could only be defined as supported by that bride movie she watched over the summer with the Unholy Trio, alleviating the world of its “shortage of perfect breasts.” They were much smaller than her own, but Rachel could only stare as they rested on top of her own. She felt the warm between her body and the other girls and -

“Holy fuck!” Rachel rolled away, jumped up and pulled her cheerleader top back down. Laying on the ground, still sleeping despite the rather echoy scream as she normally did, was Quinn Fabray, hottest girl in all of Lima despite what Santana liked to say, and a...a...penis was between her legs, erect despite the cold (Rachel liked to think herself well-read so she knew of the issues of cold had on the male anatomy). 

“Damn,” Brittany said. “Tana wins.”

“As always.” Rachel turned and looked at the couple. They looked no worse for the wear. The cold wind bit at her, and the cheer-leading outfit she rented and needed to return before the weekend was over did little to protect her. Santana and Brittany wore heavy winter jackets, boots, the works and held a bag. 

“Who...what is... I don't...” She pointed down at Quinn's appendage and the sleeping blonde before shifting to pointing at the couple. “Did you...how is...what?” Rachel nearly fell over a root of a nearby plant-tree thingie as she stepped back, trying to put as much space between her and the strangeness, because she wasn't ready to deal with this. And strangeness didn't explain the tiger that chased her, if that wasn't a dream. If it was, then how did she end up outside with Quinn, who was naked and buried her hands under Rachel's top, tangled up her legs and rubbed an erection against her bare stomach. Rachel hadn't decided which was worse, if there was an even worse situation here(or if she was upset that she was woken up when enjoying the warmth of Quinn, but she wouldn't admit that yet. Warmth was nice. Shut up, brain. You're not longer aloud to talk).

“Berry, I always love when you can't speak,” Santana said. “Its so...” She shivered with an expression between a smirk and pure enjoyment. “nice.” 

Brittany slapped Santana's arm lightly, though had a smile on her face. “Be nice. Quinn's probably cold.”

“Right,” Santana replied. “Berry wake her up. Sleeping Beauty style.”

“What?”

“You've seen the Disney movie right? Just kiss her and she awakes. I'll be cool. I'll have video evidence of it.”

“The original fairy tale involved the prince raping sleeping beautiful, Aurora mind you was her name, and she only awoke when giving birth, the baby pulled the thorn out,” Rachel said. The two cheerleaders stared at her. “Sorry.” 

Quinn muttered something and rolled to her stomach. She rested her head in the crook of her elbow and waved behind her with one hand, shooing other three girls away. Santana sighed and stepped forward. Without even a preamble, she slapped Quinn's ass hard. The sound echoed the almost empty forest, and Rachel smiled; she couldn't help it. It was a nice sound. 

“huh?” Quinn raised her head slowly. “Whtshppnng?” She rolled over to her back, her eyes covered by one of her arms, the other just laid there. She didn't seem concerned by the penis that was sticking out where her clitoris should be. 

Quinn Fabray was the least morning person Rachel knew. Everyone else was at least somewhat conscious of their surroundings and the world. Rachel was one of the few people she knew who had a zero to five hundred, as Brittany liked to put it, in the morning. Quinn preferred to slowly ease her way out of slumber, and by ease, that meant remaining in her bed as much as possible before falling out and crawling to the kitchen for coffee and bacon. Rachel had seen it. It was a funny as it sounded, since Quinn actually crawled one time. She wasn't even hungover or anything. 

“Wake up, Lucy Q,” Santana replied. “It's morning.”

“Cold.” Quinn said, her eyes refusing to open.

“That's cause you're buttass naked.”

“Pillow?”

“She stood up. And is still staring at your cock.” Brittany slapped Santana's arm again. “What, Berry is.” Rachel pulled her eyes away, turning around and crossed her arms. This was not happening. This was not happening. This- “Weren't you, hobbit?”

“Nooo,” Rachel replied. “I was just-”

“Santana,” Quinn growled. An actual growl that reverberated in within her body, and for a brief moment, Rachel was warm again, from the tip of her nose down to her... “Cloths.”

“Right, sorry.” The girl actually seemed contrite, sorry even. A bag landed somewhere near by, and Rachel listened to the rustling of cloths and a few grunts. “Better?”

“Yes,” Quinn said. A coat wrapped around Rachel's shoulders and she turned around. “You're freezing.”

“This isn't-” Rachel started, but Quinn pressed a finger against her lips. She stared at the blonde. Quinn was always a bit taller than her, but now, it seemed like the girl was even taller. In the bright morning sun, Rachel could see faint blue lines across her bare skin, from her face down to her, stop looking there Rachel. Despite wearing sweatpants, Quinn hadn't buttoned the flannel shirt yet, which just hung around her breasts. The erection was still evident too, which Rachel fought with herself to keep her eyes off of it. Like now.

This was too strange. First being stalked/chased by a male tiger, then almost sexually assaulted by said tiger, then the tiger decided it was her blanket, then waking up with Quinn as her blanket, who had a penis. That didn't exist over the summer. Rachel would remember seeing the girl with a penis when she wore the thong. It was a very clear memory. Very clear. 

“You're freezing.”

“Yes,” Rachel said. Though her teeth shook and lips felt numb. Winter had come early, and it wasn't even Westeros. She couldn't deny it. Finally pulling her eyes up, Rachel could only see concern and a faint smile on the blonde. She had cut her hair sometime during her punk phase, but at least she took out the pink highlights. It didn't suit her complexion like a light blue did or maybe a pale purple. Damn sixteen bit color scheme. 

Quinn looked around and sniffed the air. “We should get you warmed up. It'll probably snow today and I need coffee.” She turned away, starting to walk barefoot in the forest and buttoning up her shirt. Santana and Brittany followed her, but Rachel refused to move.

“No,” she said softly. Rachel knew she was being silly and childish. But this would not fly. 

“Excuse me, princess?” Santana asked.

“I said no,” Rachel repeated. “I want answers.”

“You will get them,” Santana said. “When we're warm.” She glared down at Rachel, despite almost being the same height, which was a great achievement and never failed to make her feel small. The Unholy Trinity were her friends, but three years of insults and torments had its effects. Quinn stepped in front of the Latina, giving her a brief raised eyebrow. 

She stepped closer to Rachel, and she felt again the small, insignificant loser that she was, a small scared bunny under the gaze of a predator. She was used to this feeling, didn't mean she liked it; it was suppose to be in the past. It was. “Rachel.”

“Is this why you...” She stuttered for a second. “Is this why you weren't around at the beginning of school, why you avoided me? Because of...” Rachel waved up and down. “The penis?”

Quinn said nothing, but stepped closer.

“Or was it the tiger thing? Where you terrified I'd run away? I'm assuming that the male tiger I was chased by, which is your fault by the way because it was dark and scary and you were big, and still are I guess, but the point is you hid this from me. From me.” Rachel nearly screamed the last bit, but kept her voice down. It was one of two money makers for her, and she'd be stupid to ruin it. 

“Rae, I-”

“We're friends, aren't we,” Rachel said, and looked down. She couldn't let the former Cheerio see the tears, not after surviving three years avoiding them see her break. “Or was this a giant joke to play on the loser of McKinley, the girl everyone hates. Just build her up, pretend to be her friend, and then when she's finally close to being happy, lie to her, hide from her, avoid her, and then scare her so much that she runs through a forest filled with insects and bugs and things that crawl, not to mention numerous roots that she could have broken an ankle on, effectively ending her career before it began. Oh Barbara, I forgot about the bugs.” She rubbed her arms, quickly, trying to scratch them and push the non-existent things away. 

“no, no,” Quinn replied, “Rae, I swear.” Rachel looked up to see Quinn standing only a few feet away from her.

“AM I really that horrible to be around?” Rachel asked. She avoiding looking at Santana who small lines in her make up, or Brittany's shattered happiness replaced with silent sobs. “I know I'm difficult, and it can be really annoying when I get excited, but I thought, you guys helped, I mean, I'm not – please, Quinn, this isn't some joke is it? I'm not-” Rachel was pulled into a hug despite being a few feet from Quinn; at least, she was a few feet. The blonde had wrapped her tightly, and Rachel fought the nightmares she had since the three of them befriended her, trying to avoid the thoughts about how when she finally had friends, actually friends, not just acquaintances, they would leave her. 

“Don't cry, sweetie,” Quinn said. Rachel wasn't. She couldn't not in front of the three worst tormentors in school, well two and Brittany. She hadn't before and refused to now. The train of thought didn't stop her silent gasps of breathe, her heaving shoulders, and eyes squeezed shut as much as possible. 

“please,” She begged, and wrapped herself tightly around Quinn, “I... I...”

“I”m so, so, so sorry, Rae,” Quinn said. “I never meant to hurt you. Not after the summer, not after we finally got to know each other. And I am so sorry about everything we ever did to you. Nothing can remove the pain and sorrow we made you suffer, but Santana and I wanted, want Rachel, we want to make it up to you, even if we never can.” 

“Rachel, I'm,” Santana said, having stepped so she was right next to the diva. A hand covered her shoulder and squeezed it tightly. “This wasn't suppose to happen this way. You weren't suppose to-

“Find out?” Rachel asked, her words escaping faster than she could think, which was amazing given how her mind accelerated so quickly now, until she couldn't hold a thought in her head. “I wasn't suppose to know about Quinn having a penis, or being a tiger sometimes, or-”

“No,” Santana said, “you weren't suppose to find out this way. Quinn wanted to tell you, I wouldn't let her.”

“Why?” She turned in Quinn's arms. The girl refused to let her go, which Rachel was okay with, because she didn't think she could stand. Her face was wet, but she didn't know why; it wasn't tears, she was certain of it. “Am I not-”

“Oh sweetie.” Santana rushed forward and hugged her tightly, adding herself to the hug. Brittany followed suit, and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder. “No, we trust you completely, it's just-”

Brittany spoke softly, her words almost not reaching Rachel's ear. “Quinn was terrified you wouldn't want to be around her, so she ran away. Tana just wanted to ease her back and slowly let you know.” Rachel shook her head in defiance. “Yes, she did. Quinn was gone for so long, being a skank and all, and it hurt when she came back, even if she did, because she wasn't there for a while and now she's back and with us and-”

“I'm sorry,” Rachel said.

“Rachel, you should never have to apologize about this,” Santana said. 

“So you're not made about me being...” Quinn trailed off. Her head must have been just above her own, which was weird because that certainly wasn't true before. Brittany was the tallest of the trinity, not Quinn. 

“No, I'm not,” Rachel said. “I'm mad that you felt you couldn't trust me, and that you felt that it was something to be ashamed of, and that it's pressing into me now, isn't it?” Her face felt really warm all the sudden. 

Santana jumped back out of the hug. “God, it's like you're a teenage boy. A stiff breeze will give you a stiffy.”

“I am teenager, Satan,” Quinn laughed. It was hearty and full and feminine, and so Quinn that Rachel didn't even realize how much she had missed hearing it. She gave Rachel one last, long hug before pulling away. “Come, Rachel's cold, I'm starving and Brittany probably wants Lucky Charms.”

“Fruit Loops!” Brittany said, joining her girlfriend and picking up her pinkie with her own, swinging their linked arms back and forth, as though nothing was wrong. For the moment, there wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: So I love the amount of people that are interested in this, it actually sparks my imagination to write even more. Hence, this was churned out rather quickly. I've changed a bit, not much, in the previous chapter, just fixed a few things and added a date.
> 
> I'm gonna do some time jumps, just to showcase the Unholy Trinity's relationship with Rachel, and lay some ground work for Faberry. 
> 
> As always, thank you very much, and please review, I love to hear what people think.   
> I own the story, the concept belongs to konako on tumblr, characters aren't mine. But enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel had gotten herself under control. Well, it would be more accurate to say that Quinn had gotten her under control, and she just went along for the ride. Santana drove someplace, rambling on and on and on about something that Brittany was either agreeing or disagreeing with. She wasn't sure. The words didn't seem to exist in her mind, just sounds that happened to reach her ears. Rachel was alone with two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity in a strange car headed to a strange place probably do something horrible and-

June 1st

Rachel had gotten herself under control. Well, it would be more accurate to say that Quinn had gotten her under control, and she just went along for the ride. Santana drove someplace, rambling on and on and on about something that Brittany was either agreeing or disagreeing with. She wasn't sure. The words didn't seem to exist in her mind, just sounds that happened to reach her ears. Rachel was alone with two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity in a strange car headed to a strange place probably do something horrible and-

“Tana,” Brittany said, “she's not breathing again.”

“Oh for fuck sakes,” Santana replied. “We're not going to kill you, hobbs.” 

Rachel didn't, couldn't say anything. The words left her again, leaving her with just sights that she couldn't explain and sounds that made no sense. The place she was in moved quickly, or at least was, now the world around her was slowing down, turning slightly before stopping completely. Things were around her, of some shape and some color, and they just hung about watching her, while the two other human-shaped figures moved in the front seat, one shouting now, something strange, demanding that-

“Rachel,” Quinn said, “I need you to breathe.”

Rachel took a deep breathe in and closed her eyes. Quinn didn't touch her again; she didn't know how she could handle that if the cheerleader did. The kindness would be too much. There was a figure leaning close to her, in the backseat, Rachel remembered, that was where she was, in the backseat of a car that Santana was driving to some place unknown. 

“Good, good,” Quinn said, “Just take it-”

“I will not let you kill me,” Rachel said, trying to keep her breathe even and hands still, refusing to cross them in front of herself. 

Santana barked out a laugh. “Like you could stop us.” Rachel opened her eyes and glared at the Latina standing just behind Quinn. Rachel was seated as far as she could from the driver side, placing as much distance possible between her and Santana, her arms wrapped around her legs. The former cheerleader had climbed in next to her, kneeling and looking like the serene angel she tended to, when she wanted to. But Rachel knew of the demon that lived in her, the one that showed her face in Santana every day, and how they perverted poor, sweet Brittany to their evil way of thinking. She would give them no-

“Rachel,” Quinn said, and she turned to look at the blonde, “Relax, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you.” She turned slightly to the other two. “Go.” Santana frowned but nodded. Brittany clapped once, a bright smile on her face, before taking the Latina by the hand and practically dragged her away. 

“Is this some kind of game, Quinn,” Rachel asked. “Did you kidnap me and take me just to lose me in a forest, or – no, you're not going to kill me, are you?” Quinn shook her head. “Strip me naked and leave me out her to be eaten by bears or cougars or wolves, because then technically you didn't kill and still could keep your words and I-”

Quinn sat right next to her, legs almost touching, in the middle seat of all things. Why was she so close? Rachel fought herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down, to stop her hands from shaking, to just keep still and not like the predator see her fear. 

She locked eyes onto, staring into her own. Rachel just looked into the pale blue eyes, hoping to see something, anything that would release her from the hold the Head Bitch in Charge had over her. Quinn Fabray had power, real power, not star power like Rachel would once have when she escaped from Lima where she could gather fame and fortune in some order of respect, but rather the power that the ice queen of McKinley possess drew a person in and would ground them into dust and ash without a second thought. It could raise a person into the sky with just a simple smile and crush them back onto the earth with brief frown. She commanded the masses to do her bidding, and when she fell back in sophomore year, monsters came forth and threatened the school, until she took charge again. Not even Santana or Brittany could do what she could. 

All of that power was directed at Rachel, and she was happy that she was sitting down, or her knees would have given way and she would have a hurt behind. 

“I'm sorry,” Quinn finally said.

Rachel blinked.

“I can never take back what we. What I did, to you,” she continued. Something flashed in Quinn's eyes, a brief reflection of some liquid. It was probably venom being readied to throw at her. There was nothing she could use readily in her defense, but Rachel was wily. “We made freshmen year hell for you. And a most of sophomore and a bit in junior. 

Rachel remained silent. 

“I made it that way,” she corrected. The venom was transferred from her eye to her hand with a quick swipe. Rachel pretended not to see it and reached for the door handle. “Me. And you continued to survive the hell I push onto you. The slushies, the taunts, the pictures-”

“Pictures?”

“They've been removed. Nothing real, just some drawings in a few girls' bathrooms.” Rachel knew of those; she was worried of photograph or film that some pervert decided to take of her and post just as means of destroying her future. That would have been too much. “I fixed that last bit, painted over every last bathroom just to be sure.” The smile was a distraction; don't get pulled in Rachel.

“You lived through everything, and nothing ever seemed to get you,” she continued, “until I stopped looking and actually started seeing you. Until Santana and Brittany helped me see just how messed up I was.” Lies, don't listen, don't listen, it's all- “This is just some of it, but I wanted to make amends to the people I hurt, especially you.”

“So this is a ploy to make yourself feel better?” Rachel asked. “Fine, apology accepted. I'm leaving.” She reached behind her to grab the handle, to escape into the freedom that was only inches away; her attention focused on the minute opening of the door. Close to the open world where there was no monsters in human skin to hurt her. 

“I deserve your hatred,” Quinn said. The voice, the beautiful notes that always made her smile, sank into her, settling hard into her stomach. Rachel had spoken to herself so many times with the same tone, the same heaviness, while looking into the mirror each morning, lying to herself that things would be better, that they could be better. “I deserve everything that you could throw at me, and more. And it wouldn't be enough.” 

Rachel said nothing; she refused to look towards the former cheerleader.

“It wouldn't be enough to take back anything. Frannie said, it would never be enough.” Who was Frannie, was this another cheerio? “No matter what I did, I could not erase the past.” 

Rachel leaned forward a little bit. This was a pity party and she wanted – a sniff. A soft, weak sniff pierced everything and she froze, unable to move. She turned around in her seat to see tears, real tears, on a heartbroken face of the beauty queen, who had some trouble with herself. “And I don't,” she said, fighting back a sob, “I don't want to erase it, because if I did, it would mean I would have never had Beth, and that was the best thing that had happened to me. I wouldn't trade it anything for that, even though she's...even though I don't... with everything that worked out the way it did, it was the for the best, for-”

“For the best?” Rachel slide into Quinn's personal space. “Everything you did to me was for the best? The pain you put me through, the fear of the slushie, the torture and terror you gave me everyday. That was for the best? Who the fuck do you-” A hand covered her mouth.

“I meant my life, Rachel,” Quinn said; the tears had stopped, and Rachel tried to figure out how her make-up continued to look perfect despite the tears that had slide down her cheeks. It wasn't fair. “I meant being kicked out and thrown to the bottom of the shit pole that is the McKinley High social hierarchy. I meant my father being... who he is. The shame, the depression, the slight psychosis, all of it was worth it to bring Beth into the world, even if I never kept her. And I understood. After New York, I finally understood.

“The high school bullcrap, the things that I thought made me so much better than you, than anyone else,” Quinn frowned, “None of it mattered. Everything that mattered to me was worthless. Prom Queen, Head Cheerio, president of the chastity club, Miss Perfection, Miss Beautiful, Miss Wonderful. The Ice Queen. I opened my eyes, really opened them, the first day in New York, though it had started early, and had no idea who the dead and empty girl was in front of me. The lonely girl with sad eyes. And for a brief moment, I knew that I caused you to look like this. Not Santana. Not Brittany. Me. And I can never forgive myself for that.”

Rachel licked Quinn's hand, but the girl didn't seem to notice. She sighed heavily and glared at her, before the blonde pulled her hand back and smiled apologetically. “Then why are you here? If you think that what you did was so unforgivable?”

“I want a new start,” Quinn said. 

“Hence the hair?”

“That and other things,” She replied. “I want to be your friend, like you've offered so often and I've been the bitch who neglected that friendship or flat out turned it down, or, worse, used it for my own advantage for some pity high school drama.”

“You want... is that?” Rachel lost her words again. She would have to keep better track of them if this was going to be a continuous thing. Because it was times like this when she needed her words. 

“All of us,” Quinn repeated. “Brittany has always wanted to be your friend, but Santana agreed, though she'll lie through her teeth if you ask her, that she wants this too.” She reached down and took Rachel's hand with the one she licked on it. “We, I believe that had things been different that first week, you not absent and my father not who he was, we would have been great friends. So let's fix that. Please.”

Rachel stared at Quinn, trying to mask herself with her hard “I’m-a-1920's-gangster” face. From Quinn's expression, it either worked really well, or didn't. She would have to practice in the mirror later. “I reserve the right to run away.”

“Of course,” Quinn said, “You were never that gullible, or you would have fallen for some of the more stupid, cruel pranks the jocks wanted to pull our freshmen years. Oh, don't look so surprised.” She reached forward and picked up her hand. “Come, the food should be at least ordered by now and Santana''s probably wondering if she has to hide a body or something.”

Rachel didn't move when Quinn slide across the seat towards the driver side door. “It was a joke, Rachel.” 

“Are you sure? Because you - that does not seem like a topic people joke about, and I've seen the history channel with their programs on cults and I'm too young-”

“Dead bodies aren't until the third initiation rite, so don't worry yet. We'll make sure you're ready before it comes to that.”

Rachel froze again; her face suddenly cold and that cold draining down her body, pulling her hand from Quinn's as though she was burnt. “Seriously, you'd think-” Rachel just nodded, and Quinn slide back to the diva. “I swear, it's a joke, we've never done something like that, certainly never to you”

“Oh,” Rachel replied. “I just thought-” Numerous times Santana had threatened to kill her, even jokingly, though she never took them serious, until it came to the moment they were brought up again. 

“Friends will joke and tease each other.” Quinn smiled, and she couldn't look into it. Wouldn't, because that would mean the Ice Queen had you in her sights and knew just how to hurt you.

“I've never had that with people.” Rachel looked away and finally saw the parking lot they had pulled into. “joking and teasing I mean. Friends too, I guess.”

Quinn picked up Rachel's hand and rubbed her thumb along the back. “You have three now. And that will never change.” She reached across her body and pushed the door open. “Out, Santana is Snix when she's hungry and it's hard to tell when that bitch of a person will show herself.” 

“Huh?” Rachel asked, stepping out of the car, though Quinn hadn't let go of her hand yet. The blonde flowed out and closed the door in a single motion, as though it was always meant to be that way. 

“It's okay,” Quinn said, smiling down at her. Rachel was just shorter, not by much, but freshmen year had created such an idea of Quinn, that she was a little surprised at how small the girl actually was. Not small-small, but Rachel had always seen as a larger than life figure that crushed stars like her. Today, the ice queen, who's black hole-heart had been focused on Rachel so long, looked human, and it frightened her, but a good way, she assured herself. Because if Quinn Fabray could be human, then she certainly could be something else, maybe more than a star. 

Because stars were lonely. She learned that in elementary school. Sure there were planets and stuff that circled around them, but they were never with others of their kind. It was their duty to shine and shine and shine, warm the hearts of planets and things, but stars were left to be by their lonesome selves. She cried she got home that day, until Daddy explained the differences between Stars like Sol and Barbara. But the metaphor remained; high school was just planets and asteroids and debris circling around her, and she was long in the universe, even when the rest came to be interested in the things she was. It was okay, it had to be, because one day she would be like Barbara not like Sol, but Sol was bright and strong and beautiful in its own way, and Rachel could accept that. 

But she didn't have to any more. Now, Sol was a binary star with at least one other people, maybe three, to keep it company in the ever growing and dying universe. It wasn't alone any more. 

 

*******

November 1st:

Rachel couldn't fight the cold. She had tried before, even threatening use of actual weapons, but it always seemed to win, to creep under whatever layers she wore and into her body, sapping her energy. Despite her birthday and Hanukkah being in the beginning of winter, it was too gray and dull and empty for her to enjoy, despite the happy-face she showed often. It was just a matter of getting through the three months of evil. She could do it. Except when it became more. It was November and Autumn(not fall, because that is a verb not a season) ended much early than she wanted and the temperature dropped until she was sure frost would from as they walked, solidifying them in place 

Quinn held her hand as they walked through the forest, in some direction, with the edge just beyond their vision and approaching too slow. She walked barefoot and had slowly lost height as they exited. The pair had to pause every couple of minutes as Quinn adjusted her cloths, rolling up the pants and sleeves as she shrank. “Aren't you cold?” Rachel asked. The forest was too quiet, even for early morning winter-November-not-Autumn, when the animals slept in hopes that spring would arrive and warm up their bones. Rachel hoped the same thing. 

The tigress, or was it tiger given that the form was male and Quinn possessed, or was it still presence tense, too much to think about, focus Rachel, turned slightly, but never dropped her hand. “Hmm?”

“Bare feet?” Rachel asked. Quinn smiled softly.

“I'm kinda used to it,” she replied. “It's not the first time that I've had to deal with being naked or mostly nude during cold months.”

“How do you-”

“Can we hold off the 20 questions until we're inside?” Santana said. The pair of cheerios had stepped back, talking softly in their own little world. Unlike Quinn and her, they at least wore clothing suitable for arctic terrain, which Rachel believed was necessary to deal with the weather: thick coats, gloves, and boots. Rachel was left in a thin-clothed rental cheerleader outfit, with flats on because the heels seemed ridiculous and made her ass look even better and she was already highlighting so it was better just to leave good things alone. The coat she was given didn't do much, and she could really use tea, or vegan hot chocolate, or coffee, or something warm. She'd probably even drink a warm glass of milk right now, those poor tortured cows. 

“Fruit loops,” Brittany said.

“That's right, you promised Britt's fruit loops, Q,” Santana replied, “and we wouldn't want to disappoint her. Would we?” The glare was leveled at Rachel, as if she was the one holding them up. 

“Of course,” Quinn said. “We're almost out. The Berry's is just few more minutes after that.”

“my..my home?” Rachel paused, but Santana just shoved her to keep walking. 

“Yep,” The Latina said, “Told your dad all about you taking care of Quinn when someone spiked her drink, it's why you weren't home at your curfew, which who the fuck still has a curfew at seventeen?”

“You do,” Brittany said, “Mami would have been upset with us, but-” A hand covered Brittany's mouth before she could continue. 

Rachel missed this. The joking between the three of them, how Santana acted like she was brutal and evil and mean,and she was, mostly, but when it came to Brittany, the anger just slide away, reveling the person she should be had she not had to protect the one person in the world who meant the most to her. Brittany was a ditz at school, and she perfected the persona so well, it was hard to tell if it was an act, except around her friends, she didn't have to pretend to be the dumb blonde or that she wasn't or that the things she saw, the way she saw the world, was strange and odd. 

And Quinn, Barbara, Quinn was no longer the ice-queen, though that changed over summer, when she apologized to Rachel for everything. Life and brightness and joy and kindness and things that Rachel had a hard time finding words for, but probably knew the notes better than anything else, and the songs she could sing, but the point was Quinn was more like the girl she should have been. 

They all were. McKinley, and Lima in general, was a soul-sucking town and turned people in the worst version of themselves. The Unholy Trinity was the prime example, making them into this caricatures of themselves all in the name of what? Popularity, cruelty, peer pressure, fear. All of it just destroyed the person they were meant to be. Brittany liked to say that she saved them, that befriending Rachel was the smartest thing they had done, but Rachel thought that they were far more braver than she ever was, willing to hang out with the Lima Loser that she was, even if she was going to be a star at some point. 

But Rachel had friends(FRIENDS!), and she wouldn't trade that for anything. She went through a great deal and having these people-

“Come on,” Santana said, pushing her again, so her feet moved faster than she wanted to, then she really could. They had lost feeling a bit ago, now that she was no longer curled up in the tiger's warm embrace. “I'm cold.”

“You're cold,” Rachel asked, though her words came out as just letters she repeated for a moment and strung together. She tried to take another step, but arms picked up and the forest started to move quickly around her. 

“You should have told me how cold you were,” Quinn said. She was being carried like a bride as the blonde ran out of the forest and onto the street, her street, if Rachel recognized it correctly.

“I'll-I'll-I'll-” she tried, but couldn't finish her words. Rachel wasn't that cold, just enough that her toes were starting to hurt and her hands were rather numb and her legs tingled just a little bit and maybe her face was burning from the winter-breeze in November, which was so wrong she couldn't find the words for it.

“Be fine once we get you inside.” Quinn broke no argument. The Head Cheerleader had returned, and with it was the Ice Queen herself, capitals included even in her own inner dialogue. “You're fathers are worried about you, Rae, and I think we should make sure they know you're okay, right?” Rachel nodded, leaning against Quinn, wrapping her arms around the blonde's neck and tried to pull herself close as she could without unbalancing the girl. The warmth in the crook of Quinn's neck was nice, and it at least took some cold away from her face. The flannel felt wonderful against her hands, maybe she'd pick some up and use it as pjs; would Quinn give her this shirt, because that would be awesome and-

“Dear god,” Leroy Berry said. Rachel opened her eyes to see her fathers standing in the door way, but closed them just as quick. She didn't get enough sleep with tiger-Quinn. More was required. Like now.

“I don't think it's hypothermia,” Quinn said. She slide past the men and into the living room. “Does she have an electric blanket or something?” She placed Rachel down on the couch before throwing the throw blanket over her, giving her at least some other source of warmth.

“Of course, up in her room,” Leroy said. “Hiram go-” 

“On it,” The man rushed up the stairs wihtout another word. As he came down, Santana and Brittany arrived, the former wheezing slightly. 

“Fucking hate running in the cold,” she said, and looked up into the small smiles of the Berry men. “Oh shit, I mean, I'm sorry.”

“She always this cold, Mr. B?” Quinn asked.

“Winter is not her season,” he replied. He walked around the couch and sat down next to his daughter's feet, sliding them into his lap. Quinn had not released Rachel's hands. When had she picked them up? “Doctor's say due to her smaller size and being exhausted from, well everything. Santana and Brittany have helped curb most of her insanity this year, but given that she's trying to get into NYADA-”

“She's practicing too much, again,” Quinn said. Rachel tried to argue but just rolled on her side so she was closer to Quinn.

“Chica's been a wreck some days,” Santana said. She stepped into the room and stood over the couch, resting her elbows on as she looked over Rachel. “Stopped her from doing something stupid with the elections, mostly, and B and her have been helping Kurt out. The audition went well, but-”

“She's one hundred percent one hundred of the time, right?” Quinn said. She brushed some hair off of Rachel's face; the girl tried to follow the hand as it pulled back to take up hers again., even though her head barely moved. 

“Yep.” Quinn sighed.

“Let's get the rest of you warmed up,” Leroy said. Rachel tightened her grip on Quinn. Now, if she would curl up next to her, she would no have problem being warm. Even juts touching her hand, Rachel felt some heat being to grow inside her. 

A blanket covered her body, and artificial warmth followed. Rachel sighed and snuggled in, pulling her hands inside. Fuck winter-November. Always ruining what she wanted. A light snore followed, and she could have sworn a soft kiss on her cheek by soft, petite lips, but that was probably just her daddy being gentle. Maybe.

******

Quinn knelt at Rachel's side for a little longer. She wanted to touch her again, but there was no longer and excuse to, in fact, there was barely a reason for her to remain at her side, but Quinn didn't want to think about it. She just wanted to stay next to the girl who had become important to her. 

Two hellish months without her three favorite people in the world but she needed it; Quinn Fabray needed to determine who she was without the people who mattered, without anyone else pressuring her, even passively, with their expectations. It was also a time to try to determine just what the hell happened over the summer. She needed to know her truths.

Judy Fabray had taught her daughters how to hide and control the tiger within them, the lineage they had of the First that had walked as human, joined the culture, to follow a love that She had not known before. Where as Frannie preferred and accepted that she was a female human more than a tiger, Quinn reveled in the secret form she owned, something her father could never control. They were not were-tigers, though it would be easy to mistake, given that she often accepted during the full moon. Her mother called it that: accepted that your form was not human, but tiger; that you, the girl, was really a dangerous feline. The traits and personalities of stereotypical creatures bleed into both forms, because Quinn was both girl and tiger at the exact same time. Appearances just changed.

Her hand stretched out for a second, before she pulled it back. Rachel wouldn't like to be treated this way, she told herself, repeated to herself, just to try to stop her from giving whatever warmth she could to the diva, even if only a hand on the forehead or cheek.

Quinn Fabray was born a female human; it was a truth that she had never questioned. Nor had she questioned the fact that she was also born a female tiger. These were facts that were ingrained into her body as much as her natural eye and hair color. Cosmetically, it could be changed, but these were truths for her. And her body responded as such. 

Because Quinn had known she was female as an accepted truth, she had given birth to a wonderful girl after a stupid mistake. The girl was not blessed as she was, to remain and know only what a human would know, but nevertheless, the brief moments that she held her child were her happiest moments she could remember. Not even the few blessed good memories of her father could compare.

The months that followed, well, year really, if Quinn was being honest with herself, she struggled. Giving up Beth had been the hardest thing she had done, and she regretted it but regretted that she regretted it. The tiger that she was hated the decision, viewing it as a betrayal of everything she was. The human that she was knew, without a doubt, she had made the right choice for her child. Quinn was not ready to be a mother, to care completely for another life, no matter what other emotions she felt. Thus, to control the anger and the sadness of her tiger-side, she did not accept it any more, she could not, lest she lose control and destroy things that her human-side cared for.

She did not remember most of Junior year. Brief flashes of moments that hid themselves away because Quinn was only part of herself, an ice queen and head bitch in charge. These were her accepted truths now, they had to be. She knew she could not cope otherwise. 

But prom came, and her dreams were shattered, everything that she was meant to be, broke down. For the first time in over a year, Quinn accepted her tiger-self and ran into a heavy first where she cried and cried and cried. She mourned giving up her child, mourned that she could no longer be a standard student. She mourned that she was completely and unavoidable different that everyone else, and she would struggle with both of her-selves daily. These were her truths now. 

Through out all of her struggles, even though she was a bitch and horrible human being, Santana and Brittany never left her side. They fought, they bickered, they disagreed and backstabbed each other, well, it was more Santana and her, Brittany was a peacemaker between them. Quinn was not alone, despite how much she felt some days. New York was a chance to change, having left Ohio for the first time in her life to a place that was bigger, louder, fuller than she ever had known. The smells alone were invigorating and distracting, but she enjoyed every second of it. The place had sparked a new idea of her truths. 

The little snore was so Rachel, soft and gentle, an almost musical quality to it. Quinn pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, almost covering the diva completely before she sat back down and watched over her. 

A hair cut was the start. But like an addict who was detoxing off of their drug of choice, Quinn needed to detox off her bitchiness. She needed to make amends, even if it was with only one person. For three years, she and the Cheerios saw to it the suffering of one Rachel Berry. Never had a person made her so angry just by existence, and Quinn never questioned her anger, her hatred, her dislike. While getting to know the girl through glee, something at the time Quinn had hated, had lessened most of the negative emotions she felt, they would have never been friends had the loss at Prom not occur. Had she not broken down in the forest and question who she was and why she did what she did. 

It took three weeks to gain the courage to speak to the girl, to find the reason and intellectual understanding of why she should apologize. It took three weeks to convince Santana that it would be better for both of them, especially them, if they took away the dislike and hatred of the girl. Quinn figured that Santana argued with her just to be contrary. While Rachel would be gaining them, she knew that the Unholy Trinity would be gaining the diva, and she always felt the only girl who would really escape Ohio, the only person to never break under their horrible gaze, was something great and wonderful. It was part of the reason why Quinn tore the girl down; she hated beautiful things. 

Maybe that was why she disliked mirrors. 

For most of the summer, the Trinity were Rachel's only companions besides her fathers, sometimes together, sometimes just one of them with her. They had to earn her trust and friendship, and Quinn knew it would be difficult, but she loved to see the short brunette smile, really smile, not the stage one she used most of the time. It was the brightest thing Quinn had seen, Rachel's smile lit up a room and made heavy hearts finally lighten their load. The task of becoming friends, of accepting the girl for who she was, and helping the diva lessen the diva-nature and bring out her true self was worth every insult she received, every lingering doubt that looked upon her, every question to understand why they were being so nice. The distrust was earned, but in the end, Rachel Berry had become a friend.

The time spent of Rachel had been one of happiness and contentment. Where Santana and Brittany would cuddle together during their movie nights, Quinn was left with Rachel and holding her throughout most of the scary movies the Trinity seemed to love. They hung out the most, with Quinn attending some of her events and practices, an effort to support the girl. And somewhere along the way, she noticed just how beautiful the girl was.

That was when a new truth formed, one that altered herself in a way Quinn had not expected. Before she was a female who had always been attracted to males, her truth that she had never waiver from, never questioned, because it was what her father had taught her; it was what was normal. But with Rachel, some more questions, some more doubts formed in her mind just what she was and who she was attracted to. Santana and her talked one night, and with Quinn trying to figure out just what she was feeling, since the girl was the only person she knew who had similar struggles until she had accepted who she was. The Latina helped her and held her in her tiger form as Quinn cried at a new truth for her, another one that altered just everything who she was: she was a female who had fallen for Rachel Berry, the sweet, kind, driven girl with a tendency for insanity and obsession and wordiness. 

The truth almost broke her because it was also a truth that Rachel was straight. A truth that had sent her running so hard and so fast, because she couldn't look back. “Q?” Santana said. The tigress looked over to her friend. “Best stop staring at her, you're getting a bit creepy, though Britts says it's cute.”

Quinn stood up slowly, stretching to her feet in a single motion. Her eyes found the diva again, taking in that she was safe, she was warm, she was happy if given the smile on her face. She fought the desire to lean down and kiss her forehead, as though a parent would a child, or more accurately, as a lover would their heart. But it would be wrong to do so. Rachel held no interest in her. Her heart sank a bit further, the tiger wanting to express it's sadness, but she held it in. Now was not the place to pity herself. A Fabray felt no pity or remorse, even towards herself. 

Inside the Berry kitchen, everyone stood around the island, warm cups in their hands. Brittany was eating a large pool, her teeth crunching on the colorful cereal, a smile with each spoonful. Green tea and sweet coffee drifted around everyone. “Here,” Hiram handed Quinn her cup, a large one, almost a bowl really, but the light green was picked out by Rachel, and it always brought a smile to her face when it was in her hand. As always, it was filled with warm, whole milk and a dash of coffee with cinnamon sprinkled in it. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, receiving the cup-bowl and smiling as she gentle sipped the warmth. Quinn was not cold, but the drink always reminded her of Christmas when she was younger, when her father was not who he was and her mother had not accepted her truth that she was a drunk and obedient housewife, just to keep a semblance of peace. 

“So,” Leroy said. 

“So,” Santana replied.

“So,” Hiram added. 

“Buttons!” Brittany said. Quinn snorted and tried to hide her smile in glass, but still felt the glare from the Latina. 

“How was the party?” Leroy ignored the outburst, but smiled at the blonde. The real question he was asking had more to deal with why their daughter was out until morning and how come she was so could.

“It's my fault,” Quinn said, speaking before Santana could say anything. The clock in the study down the study, the groups' breathing and heartbeats, and Rachel's gentle snore were the only sounds she could hear. No one spoke or moved. If it was just Rachel, it would be comforting, but the silence always annoyed her. “Someone slipped me something, I don't remember when or what but-”

“Rachel was the one who noticed,” Santana continued the lie. “Took care of her until morning when we walked over here. Got rather cold too, so-”

“Why is Quinn still in this,” Leroy asked, waving his hand up and down at Quinn's outfit, “costume? Where is her shoes?”

“Lost them,” Quinn said. She honestly did. “I don't really remember where, but Rachel found these cloths for me...” She let her voice trail off and looked away. It was better to simply lie here, then try to explain that some jock had followed Rachel out, who left because she was bored and only the drunks were hitting on her while her friends ignored her(some by design, others by accident). It was better they thought the story instead of knowing that Quinn shifted to frighten off the would-be rapist and chased Rachel because she wanted to know if the girl was okay. Sometimes, it was better that the truth was not known. 

“Did,” Hiram started, shook his head, letting the question go. “I'm glad you are okay.”

“Me too,” Brittany said. “That party was kinda sucked anyways, so Tana and I left early. Sorry we weren't paying attention to help.” The girl looked so sad and distraught, which only made Quinn glad it was just a lie. She was also glad that Brittany knew how to lie and hide things better than Santana or herself. 

“ I am fine, really,” Quinn replied. “Is it okay if I hang out here today, though?” 

“Of course, just later, kay?” Leroy said, nodding with a large smile on his face. “In fact, we're glad to see to you again. It's been a while.”

“I've been working through some things.” 

“I can see that,” His eyes drifted up to her still short hair. At least it was not pink any more. “Are things better?”

Quinn smiled her good-christian smile and nodded. “I've accepted a few things about myself, and slowly being folded back into the group.”

“What she means is that she's no longer being a bitch and now wants to be friends again,” Santana translated. Quinn turned to glare and growl, but Hiram's laugh broke her anger.

“You will never clean up that tongue, will you Santana,” he asked, and it was Brittany's turn to snort. The brunette cheerio turned a bit red,as much as her tan skin could blush, at least, and she looked away, at least trying to act embarrassed. “Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.”

The Berry's were the first people Brittany and Santana had been open to, especially since they offered to answer questions they had regarding their treatment in a small, bigot-minded town like Lima. Though times were changing, people tended to be a bit slower than that. But the men had accepted the pair and opened their door to any thing they needed, even if it was just a space to crash the night. Though they banned sex in their house, something that Quinn was thankful the two respected. She remembered Rachel's blush at that conversation and how cute she looked. 

“She's said worse,” Quinn said.

“And done worse.” The proud smile on Brittany just made her girlfriend blush even harder.

“Well,” Leroy said, coughing and turning away, “sadly, Hiram and I do have to get some work today, so if you girls don't mind, you can come back later, okay, when we're home. Not that we don't trust you, but-”

“No prob, Mr. B,” Santana said. “Rules are rules, plus Mami and Papi are probably worried sick about us.”

Quinn said nothing. She was unsure how Judy would take her late night. Despite their commonalities, their relationship was a bit strained since being kicked out. It was slowly being rebuilt, but things were slightly better. 

The other issue was she did not want to leave Rachel. If only for her own sanity. But needs must, she supposed. Plus actual cloths would be a decent separation and barrier for her own desires. More layers meant less likely she would do something.

“Quinn?” Brittany asked, placing a hand on her arm. She spoke before she did so, making sure that the girl was aware of what was happening, aware of her surroundings. It took once when another Cheerio surprised her for the other two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity to understand do not touch her when she was unaware. “We'll give you ride, yes?” 

She just nodded. Brittany clapped her hands and started to pull on her. “let me say goodbye first?” It was plea, and Quinn knew she sounded desperate, but she could only hope that neither her friends or the Berry's noticed. Santana raised an eye brow, but nodded. 

She walked swiftly, her feet barely touching the floor as she gliding into the living room. Quinn crouched down in front of Rachel. Some of her hair had fallen over her face, and the diva twitched her nose in trying to remove it; Quinn pushed it away, and a smile grew on Rachel's face. She leaned into the hand, and she was worried she woke the girl. But the little snore did not stop. 

“I'll be back,” Quinn said, “later.” When she could get herself under control and stop the desire to touch and hold and protect Rachel. “Be safe and warm.” 

She left the Berry's without another word, standing next to Santana's car parked on the street, as snow fell slowly around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god this took forever... granted it's almost 7k worth of words, and I struggled and rewrote many different parts, but still. It's been like what five days? I've writing in my spare time between school and work, so yay! Fanfic.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your interest, and I hope I live up to your expectations.
> 
> Couple of things: 1) I've been working on a faberry, possibly faberrittana or fapezberry, pokemon crossover: would people be interested? 2). the Quinn section I’m torn on, so opinions would greatly appreciated on that topic. 3). Had I been the owner of Glee, we would have had Faberry by season 2 at least and the issues of season 3 & 4 would not have happened. But I don't. So i'm sad. 
> 
> Enjoy people and as always: read and review.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School had started a week okay, and Rachel was unsure how this had been the worst possible school start to date, despite the fact that she now had people she considered friends(FRIENDS!). She stood at her locker, and a small smile grew on her face, and for the first time in high school, she let it. Prior to her senior year, happiness was not something she worried herself about; the time period in her life spent at McKinley High School in Lima Ohio would have been just a footnote in the outstanding and riveting biography of one Rachel Barbara Berry, Broadway Star and EGOT winner.

September 1st:

School had started a week okay, and Rachel was unsure how this had been the worst possible school start to date, despite the fact that she now had people she considered friends(FRIENDS!). She stood at her locker, and a small smile grew on her face, and for the first time in high school, she let it. Prior to her senior year, happiness was not something she worried herself about; the time period in her life spent at McKinley High School in Lima Ohio would have been just a footnote in the outstanding and riveting biography of one Rachel Barbara Berry, Broadway Star and EGOT winner. 

But her summer had changed everything she thought in her life. Three new friends, despite her current uncertainty about one of them, had come into her life and refused to leave despite her brand of insanity. The Unholy Trinity was one of the best things, previously worst, things in her life. For a while she thought having friends would actually be better than singing, which she also had believed to be an impossibility, but nevertheless felt certain that it came really, really, really close, and she kind of liked that.

Except for August being the worst month in a long time. It was August that Santana and Brittany left for cheer camp. Rachel had thought Quinn was joining them, but apparently, the girl had never shown up, a fact that could not have been relayed to the diva until they returned from same due to inability to contact the outside world while on the trips. Apparently, the first rule of cheer-leading camp is don't talk about cheer-leading camp. The second rule is very similar. A weird group, but she had known that since freshmen year.

Rachel closed her locker and hugged her books tightly to her chest. She had been given a new locker this year, something about mixing things up and having the seniors help the freshmen in their new school. It was really just a ploy by the megalomaniac named Sue Sylvester, but Rachel could neither prove nor disprove that the cheer-leading coach had done something to split up the Gleeks. 

August also was the worst month she had to endure because her boyfriend had decided now was a perfect time for her to start paying attention to him. It was probably due to that she had stopped texting Finn towards the end of July, as he had yet to really reply to her or agree to any of the dates she wanted to have, or even just hang out with her. Rachel figured that was what summer was for and didn't want to pressure him by being nagging and a constant presence in his life, even if she was just his girlfriend, at least she thought. The month before school proved that the train of thought was correct.

Finn returned to her life, and it was nice again, to have a semi-attentive boyfriend, even if he never understood what she was talking about, and she him, and often he was get bored easily with what she wanted to do, or just plain rude. But having a boyfriend, especially popular one was nice. Speaking of-

“Good Morning Finn,” Rachel said, her arms wrapped around her books in front of her chest. She wore a plaid skirt with her favorite sweater, it was Friday, after all, and she deserved to reward herself with a well-made stitched unicorn and pink sweater. 

“Hey, Rach,” Finn said. He stood over her, staring down, but his eyes weren't on hers. They were focused, as usual, on her v-neck, trying to look at her bra(black and lacy, picked out by Brittany of all people). She sighed and pulled her books up a bit higher.

“Walk me to class?” Third period science was just a few hallways away, and it was just a few doors away from Finn's class. He had walked her every day thus far, but it was always polite to ask.

“Umm,” he replied, “Not today.”

“oh,” Rachel said, fighting the small pout and forcing the disappointment down inside. 

“It's not that I don't want to,” he continued, his eyes finally finding hers, “But Coach wants to speak with me before class. Something about the game coming up and-”

She searched his eyes as he rambled, the words disappearing into emptiness as she attempted to use her limited, but selective third eye to determine if he was deceptive. There was nothing she could determine, nothing that he was lying about. Rachel didn't know why she had questioned him as much as she was. Finn was honest and kind, if a bit dim sometimes, and while he rarely looked beyond himself, he still was there when she needed him in the end. This was going to be her year. With her popular boyfriend who loved and cherished her, and her friends(FRIENDS!), senior year would be her best year yet.

“Of course, Finn,” Rachel said once she noticed he had stopped talking, “I would never be one to step in front of you dreams.”

“Thanks.” He kissed her cheek, a bit sloppily, but a nice, sweet gesture. She smiled back and kissed his, enjoying the small tingle of contentment. “I knew you'd understand.” He disappeared down the hallway, away from their classes without another word.

Rachel walked with a very little care. There had been no slushies or taunts or threats or anything that she had suffered through the majority of her high school career, and she was enjoying the piece. Santana and Brittany had taken care of it, she supposed. Quinn...she hadn't heard much from Quinn. Glee was due to start up soon, and while the blonde was not around, Rachel was sure she'd be there for the group. For her. This year was-

Very, very cold. 

Her books fell to the floor as three different slushies dripped down her body. Rachel couldn't see, eyes shut as tight as possible in hopes that none of the sticky, disgusting substance hurt her even more. This wasn't suppose to happen. Her unicorn sweater was soaked through, and she was sure that the black lacy bra she wore was highlighted underneath. It continued to slide down her face, her neck and down her back, even to her-

“My Barbara,” she twisted a little bit as some of the frozen goo slipped down her skirt.

Laughter. It was the laughter she had thought disappeared like the night as her sunrise of senior year rose. The hallway sang its cruel song as seniors, juniors and sophomores filled her ears, and the soft sounds of freshmen just hidden underneath, unsure of what was going on, but afraid to not fit in. 

“Enjoy your bath, Gleek?” A voice cut through everything. She heard that voice before. One of the hockey players, the base of the sports teams at McKinley. “Here let us help you dry off.”

Something else was dumped on her, and through the sludge that coated her, Rachel felt tiny, light somethings land on her. She coughed and sputtered as she breathed them in, trying to turn away, but a heavy hand pushed her back in the middle of the pool of slushie, her flats offering no traction, and was forced to spin a bit. She tried to keep her balance. 

Feathers. Rachel coughed out feathers and was happy that her eyes were closed. She tightened them even more, determine not to see anything. They slushied and feathered her. 

The laughter grew louder. 

Nothing had changed. The hockey player spewed out taunts and insults, calling her Man-hands once again, a little tranny who had whored her way into the graces of a jock like Finn. That her surgery was fantastic, and done a great job hiding the fat and scars. That every one wanted to show her what a real man was and-

The laughter suddenly stopped. The hallway was quiet again, just before the world erupted in fear and terror and oddly comfort. 

“Who the fuck do you think you fucking are, you fucking twat-wads?” Santana shouted, and Rachel shook in place. It was just from the cold she told herself. “Who the fuck gave you permission, and why did you actually fucking think it was a fucking good idea? Did you not get the memo, you-” The cheerio slipped into Spanish; Mr Schuester was a terrible teacher, and her vocabulary was horrible. Santana spoke fast and loud, her voice only a few feet away. 

A hand pushed her aside, and Rachel nearly fell. But something slammed hard against the lockers. She really, really wanted to open her eyes. But her hands were sticky and terrible at removing the slushie she was coated in. More slipped down her skirt, now into her underwear and traveling her legs to her flats. The feathers were even more awkward, her hands just scratching her skin as she moved.

“Don't you dare,” the voice growled, actually growled, and Rachel's body vibrated from her sternum all the way to just below her navel and she should really stop that line of thought in school. “Don't you fucking dare.”

“Q?” Santana paused in her rant.

Quinn was near her. Now she really, really wanted to see. Someone stepped close to her, a hand that shook slightly touched her cheek, then another one. Two thumbs lightly brushed her vile substance from her eyes. 

The blonde she knew was gone. The light sun-bleached, soft, wonderfully soft, hair was gone and pink harshness stood in its place. Thick eyeliner detracted from the deep, dark green iris, while the pink eye shadow hardened the soft curves of her face. And, Barbara, a nose ring, a piercing. Rachel could smell the smoke from her lips, now bright pink as well. But whatever anger the once-blonde had disappeared. She only saw sadness and worry, and something else that made her warm up in the exact same place as- stupid line of thought for later, Rachel, deal with your weird ideas later. 

“Are you okay?” Rachel shook her head. The voice hadn't changed at all, music that she had missed for over a month now, even with the smoking. “Stupid question. I'm sorry.”

“Q, what the fucking-”

“Lopez, you and Pierce take Berry hear to the showers, get her cleaned up.” The HBIC voice was frightening and Rachel shook from the cold, again, she swore. It had nothing to do with the tone and how even harsh and mean the voice was, Quinn still only sound like music. 

“Who the fuck-”

“Sure, Quinn,” Brittany said and wrapped an arm around Rachel. Quinn pulled away, her hands shaking again, but she never took her eyes off of her. “we'll take care of it.”

“Good,” the now-punk non-blonde turned away. The outfit was form fitting, though the black jacket with spiked shoulders hid most of it. A torn skirt that probably was as short as Rachel's, though the stockings she wore, also torn, helped give some modesty. “I'll take care of these... boys.”

Brittany led her away, and Santana stomped by behind them, glaring at the crowd who parted ways for her. Rachel stopped though, her eyes pausing on someone who shouldn't have been there, who was suppose to be talking with his coach. 

Finn had hidden around a corner, trying to look like he had not been there the entire time, but Rachel knew better. She knew his sheepish and guilty smile, the one that he had given so many times, including the meeting after the New York failure and kiss. He was a man-child, and it was a like finding a boy who had eaten all of the cookies, even when he knew better. But why? Why was here? Had he decided to take her to her classes anyways. 

Santana nearly walked into, well, she did, except her hands here in front of her and the cheerio pushed her a bit. Rachel would have fallen had Brittany not held on tight. “We're going to talk later, Finnosaurus, don't think I know what's happened here.”

The three girls walked away from the quarterback, leaving him looking at his feet. No one said a word and Rachel felt someone wet on her cheeks, which she was sure was just the slushie dripping onto the spots Quinn cleaned up. She never cried at school, and wouldn't stop now. 

Even if her boyfriend had abandoned her, which wasn't likely, and on of her friends(friends?) had tried to rescue her, only to leave her again. Even then. 

******

Nov. 2nd:

Quinn had not been able to visit Rachel until Sunday, as her fathers sought to spend some time with her, making sure she was okay and safe and okay. She had wanted to see the diva, to explain things and maybe see if she could salvage their friend ship. 

After the slushie incident, Rachel cornered her with the Skanks and tried to get her to rejoin Glee. But she could not. Her tiger was demanding so much of her and she struggled with it for most of August before slowly gaining control.

The Skanks were like her, well, in a way. They were all related in a round about way, but wolf-clans tended to breed together, even if they were not actually related. The Mack was the one who found her, tormented and depressed as she fought the desire and want inside, as well as the penis she grew overnight after a sleepover with Rachel, where they cuddled and held each other after a rather gory film of Santana's choice. 

The Mack taught her more about being a were-creature then her mother had, at least, the idea of mating and such. They never talked about sex in the Fabray's besides the standard “DON'T”. It was embarrassing to even think about. They never talked about her tiger-side besides just how to control it. But she needed to learn.

Quinn needed to learn about what it meant to be an Alpha, what it meant to be responsible for her race. The were-tigers were hunted, almost to extinction, really. The Wolf tribes had told stories of how they ruled and controlled the hunts, protecting mankind from itself and dangers. Until hunters had enough. Until humans desired control and hunted the oddities and supernatural beings to secrecy and invisibility. The Wolf tribes were one of the few that survived well, taking to the woods and small towns, almost like that horrible vampire movie(thankfully, those creatures did not exist), while the Tiger clans were killed, slaughtered because they were feared. Very few survived.

The Mack taught her about pregnancy and Alphas, how they would only produce their kind with viable mates, those who deserved them. Puck was an alpha-male, but as the Mack told her, offering her a cigarette, he did not deserve her. She taught Quinn about how, even though accepting herself as a were, she was still keeping herself separate and away from what she truly was. A were-tiger was both human and tiger, at the same time. 

Quinn opened herself up, accepting a new truth, one she fought with for years. Her senses exploded and her tiger-heart raged against her human mind. For a week, she struggled to hold a form that was comfortable, that was Lucy Quinn Fabray, not a monstrosity. She was constantly breaking bones and healing them, including compound fractures that pierced her perfect sink. Fur grew and shed, ripping apparent underneath her muscles as it pushed out of her body. It was hell. But when the week was over, Quinn felt more her than she had before. For once, the tiger did not fight her any more. Or rather she did not fight the tiger. 

She needed to explain all of this, if she could. As accepting as Rachel as was, Quinn needed to explain herself, the separation and the attitude, the secrecy, as well as why she was humping the girl the day before. Waking up next to Rachel was a memory she would never forget, mainly because it was the closest she had been to the girl in months. 

Quinn walked up to the Berry's door and knocked. They knew she was coming over after dinner, as the rules meant at least one dad had to be present when friends were over, after an unfortunate experience with alcohol early in the summer and Leroy walking in on a naked Santana and Brittany in the living room. 

She shuffled on her feet, kind of wishing that she had not worn a sun dress. Not that she was cold or anything, but it was the old Quinn, someone who had disliked herself and fought so hard against herself. The new-Quinn, while not punkish any more, still felt more comfortable in sweat pants and a tank top, though a loose one would only make Rachel uncomfortable since most days Quinn forwent underwear. 

The door opened, and Hiram stood over her. “Quinn.” He didn't move.

“Mr. Berry,” she replied. The black man just started at her through his glasses, never waiving. But Quinn returned the look. No fear, no anxiety, no questions any more. The tiger-she-was knew her place, even if the man stood over her.

“Oh, daddy,” Rachel said, pushing the man aside. The million watt smile Quinn received warmed her, even though the early winter had gotten worse. Granted, it hadn't bothered her like it once would have, but still, it was the thought, Quinn figured. “Quinn! Come in, come in. It's cold.

Rachel had bundled up in what looked like two sweaters, the second one was large enough to reach her thighs and had a orange cat on it, pajama bottoms that were pink with gold stars, and had a blanket wrapped around herself, black covered with gold stars. She also had a knitted hat on with a star pom. 

Quinn stepped inside and wrapped the girl in a tight hug. Cherries invaded her senses, filling up single pore she had, overloading the mind she had sought to calm. She just tightened her grip and pulled the girl as close as possible. The blanket fell and Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist, laying her face on Quinn's neck, exposing her own to the tiger-mind. She wanted to nuzzle and lick on the smooth skin, tasting it and enjoying everything that would be Rachel Berry. 

Leroy coughed, and Quinn tried to pull away, but Rachel just held on tight. “Daddy,” she said and nuzzled the blonde, “Quinn has never been a problem here. You don't need stand guard like some crazy man.” 

“Really, Leroy,” Hiram said. “The girls will be okay. Just let them talk okay. Quinn probably has a lot to say.” He glared softly at her, and she nodded, but did not look away. She would never back down again. “You two may head upstairs now.”

“Kay,” Rachel finally pulled away, but took Quinn's hand and pulled her up the stairs to her room.

In three months, the room had not changed much. Still bright pink with dull pink covers and animals, oh the stuffed animals that sat around on the floor and shelves, but cleared of the bed for once. Pictures of her friends, even if they were only as old as the summer. Albums on a bookshelf, cds and vinyl, covered a wall, with a desk sitting near, a record player hooked up to a headset and microphone that was connected to the laptop. A television sat on a dresser with a few devices hooked up to it. Quinn knew if she looked under the bed, she would find a box filled with video games, the diva's little vice that only the Unholy Trinity knew about. 

Rachel closed the door and jump onto her bed, bouncing on it slightly before shuffling around to look at Quinn, standing just inside the room, coat still on and backpack hanging to the side now. She fought a smile, but decided it was better to let the girl see just how happy she was that she was. The girl threw the blanket off, tossing her hat and sweater as well only to reveal the second possessed an orange cat as well. “Hi,” Rachel said, smiling shyly. 

“Hi,” Quinn replied. The brunette reached out for Quinn. With a smile, she dropped her bag and removed her coat, and tried to ignore the raised eyebrows on Rachel, as well as the heightened pulse, slight temperature increase and catch in her breath. She fought for a second before letting herself be pulled, Rachel laughing the entire time. It was contagious and Quinn let herself be free. 

They laid down next to each other; Quinn had a hard time keeping her eyes still, taking in everything and anything about Rachel, absorbing whatever she could from the girl just inches from her. The sweater was really tight on the girl, as was the pajamas. She swallowed and tried to control herself. 

Quinn wanted to keep this image of Rachel in her mind as long as possible. Especially if this was the last time she would see the diva. Rachel's pillows, pink as they were, smelled of her, and it calmed her. The smell of the girl alone calmed her. 

This talk would drive her away; she was so certain of it. Despite the calmness Rachel showed the day before, the reasons behind everything, why Quinn left, her strange biology, and transformational issues would send the girl running. 

“Hi,” Rachel said.

“Hi,” Quinn replied. The brunette reached out and placed her hand on Quinn's arm, running her fingers up and down. She let go of a breathe, shaky and uneven, closing her eyes as she relaxed into the touch. 

“I missed you,” Rachel said. Quinn just nodded; she had missed her too. “You promised me something.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, not promised as much, but said you would, and I expect you to uphold you not-promise to me anyways, especially because-” Quinn's smile widen and betrayed her uncertainty. It was not fear, because she no longer feared anything. Not even losing Rachel. It had to be something else, some other emotion that settled in her chest, because then she could not handle anything. She just could not. And the tiger-side had taught her that nothing was beyond her, that nothing would control her, especially not fear.

“And what did I not promise?”

“To tell me why you felt it was necessary to distance yourself from me and Santana and Brittany, but mostly me, because you were my cuddle buddy and I missed that. It sucks being the third wheel with those two, but I guess you knew that all and while I can see that-” Quinn reached out and lightly tapped Rachel's mouth with her finger. 

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay? So you'll tell me.”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.” 

“Even the tiger and penis stuff.” Quinn face reddened. 

“Of course.” There was no hesitation, despite her desire to keep at least something to herself, but she had said she would explain, and she could not lie to the diva.

“And why you left me?” The final question nearly shattered her heart, the solid iron and ice she had reforged in August as a fierce were-tiger should possess. Nearly was probably the wrong adverb. Certainly, was more accurate. 

“I am truly sorry I have hurt you again, Rachel,” Quinn said. The diva shifted on her shoulder closer to Quinn and processed to tangle her legs up with her. Thin pajama pant-covered legs. That she felt every gentle curve and tight muscles beneath. 

“Just be honest with me, kay?” Rachel replied. “That's all I want.”

“You sure?”

Rachel nodded. 

“About everything?”

Another nod.

“Will you not leave?”

“Why would I-” She paused in her response; Quinn closed her eyes. The hand stopped moving and just rested on her elbow. “Quinn, I swear to you, nothing you say could make me leave you. You're my best friend. I don't know how it happened, especially all things considered that we went through, but you are, and I love you for it.” The hand started moving again, and her iron-ice heart pumped unevenly, though it was probably working just fine and that was more of a reaction to the tender words of the diva who had no reason to trust her. 

Quinn said nothing for a while, trying to gather her words, and, though she refused to admit it to herself, her courage to say what she needed to say. Rachel deserved more than her, more than a bitch who hurt her and debased her year after year, even when they finally became acquaintances. This would end what she had worked so hard for, and while unfortunate, she could see no other way“Quinn, I promise you-” 

“I think I am gay, Rachel,” Quinn said. 

The hand stopped again, as did Rachel's breathing. But Quinn just continued. “It was part of what I learned, and needed to deal with. The other thing was the whole tiger issue. Not the transforming, though I do not call it that, and everything.” She couldn't stop talking, the words spewed forth from her mouth like she was Rachel Berry talking about Broadway.

Quinn spoke of her past and her puberty from Lucy Caboosey to the HBIC with the smoking hot body, from the bullied to the bully, and how puberty and the acceptance of being a were-tiger just made it all worse and torturous. She spoke of her father's ignorance of her issues and hatred of all things non-natural, and how he raised and taught her to be the good little Christian girl whom was perfect in every single way that he cared about: straight, pious, and, above all, obedient. She spoke of Beth, a first in a very long time, because even the Mack did not deserve to know about her child who would never be like her, but she loved so much that the thought still hurt to this day.

Quinn spoke of her insane junior year and everything she felt and suffered through, of her own design she told Rachel, and how hard it was just to deal with it all. She spoke of her break down, her first really, after Prom and how everything failed to go according to the plan, even though her father had made it, and how it had forced to accept somethings about herself, even if it was not all of them .She spoke of New York and how she made the plan to apologize to Rachel and become her friend, even enlisting the other two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity to try to beg for forgiveness. 

Quinn spoke of August and what she learned about being a were, and how she had changed once more and it frightened her beyond anything she had experienced, including the pregnancy, and how being an Alpha meant that she had a duty to propagate her face to ensure that extinction did not occur. She spoke of the Mack and the Skanks, how they helped her finish accepting the rest of herself, including the hardest part and what they told her of her history. 

Through out all of, Rachel was quiet and her hand did not stop moving. Quinn was grateful for both.

“Which leads us to the thing between your legs,” Rachel said, and heat filled Quinn's cheeks. 

“It's not always there,” Quinn replied, looking away. “it comes and goes, and started this August. That's why you never saw it before.” This was the worst part, talking about the truth behind the transformation. The part that would drive her away forever, because of just how much a freak she was, even in the were community. Once again, she would be alone, even when she had friends. 

“I know; had it been I would have pushed a bit harder.” Quinn opened her eyes to look into Rachel's, who's nose was now only inches away.

“Wh-wh-what?” 

“It's a shame really, because I would have been a bit more direct, certainly I would have realized this a bit sooner and at least had been honest with you”

“Rae, I-I-I don't, what do you-” The hand was now pulling her close, and Quinn felt Rachel's body press again against her. 

“You said you were gay, right?” Rachel asked. Quinn nodded. She shuffled closer to the blonde and her hand began to play with one of the straps of her sundress. “It is really, really, really brave of you to tell me. Are...are you out?” Quinn shook her head. “Does anyone else know or am I the first?”

“The Mack, and Santana and Brittany, but that's it,” Quinn replied. “She's the one who helped me with all of the were-tiger issues,and they helped out the most when I first realized it.”

“Including your penis.” She had a hard time forming thoughts for a second as the hand danced up her neck. It took a moment for the question to reach her understanding, but Quinn nodded. Her acceptance was a hair's breathe away. In fact, her control was almost slipping, and her spine began to lengthen. “But I'm the fourth?”

Quinn nodded, and closed her eyes. Why had she not run? Rachel was suppose to be frightened, terrified even, that the girl she knew was not really human and certainly not much of a female any more

“Don't hide from me?” The hand cupped her cheek. “You never need to hide from me.”

“How can you accept all of this?”

“Hmm?” 

“Me, the tiger-side,” Quinn said, “My...my...”

“Penis? Cock? Dick? Baby-maker? Heat-seeking Moisture missile? Sausage?” Quinn was fighting a smile, but it was a futile battle. She knew she could not hold her laughter in, especially as her spine added vertebrae and tendons and skin and fur. Her head began to itch, and her ears hurt. “Meat popsicle? Wiener? Meat injector? Pecker? Flesh flute? Schlong? Yogurt shotgun?” 

Quinn snorted and covered her mouth. She opened her and saw stars in Rachel's eyes as the smirk just brightened everything in the room. “Where did you-”

“Puck has a tendency to speak at length of his own sexual prowess,” Rachel replied.

“And you see Puck when?”

“Temple. He goes every week, with or without his mom. Takes his sister and we end up talking while his sister plays with her friends.” 

“That's so...”

“Sweet?”

“Not Puck.”

“I know, right,” Rachel said. “He swore me to secrecy, but you can keep a secret, can't you?” Quinn nodded; it was a stupid question all things considered. But Rachel was so childish and giddy that she could not help but agree. “Because blackmail is an awesome tool. As a former Cheerio you know that.” Rachel slide her hand down Quinn's neck back to her shoulder, and she fought a purr. Fought and failed. 

She closed her eyes and just purred as Rachel scratched her neck, purring. Her ears disappeared from the side of her head as they reformed on top of her head, poking through her blonde hair. Quinn learned to ignore the biology of that one, rather just accept it then have to wonder how everything inside of her skull rearranged to do it. “You're beautiful.”

“Hmm?” Quinn leaned forward a bit, trying to give more access to the diva. Whether how she was being touched or that it was Rachel, and she was willing to accept that it was the latter, it was wonderful. 

“The stripes.” Quinn opened her eyes and nearly rolled away, but Rachel sat up and pushed Quinn down onto her back. The diva followed the movement until she was straddling the girl, settling on her hips. Dear God, give her strength because Rachel's pajama pants were extremely tight. This close, Quinn could follow every curve of the girl, and she could not take her eyes off of her. “Oh my Barbara, you have cat ears. That is so awesome.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, oh, oh,” Rachel continued, twisting around and pressing herself harder against Quinn's hips. She fought a groan. This would not be good. “You have a tail. So what? A partial transformation, right?”

“No,” Quinn said. “The better would be 'partial acceptance,' and I would apply it to either the human or tiger form.”

Rachel smiled down, shifting her hips as she got comfortable. Her hands stayed on Quinn's shoulders, though her fingers tightly danced on her skin. She had pushed the straps down her arms. Blood rushed to her clit. This would be very, very not good. “So this is your natural form?”

“Yes,” Quinn said. “How can you-” She could not understand why the girl remained so close to her, was touching her intimately, like Finn wished he could and Sam tried his hardest to. Gentle caresses on her shoulder and shifting of her hips as she got comfortable, many times. Did she not understand what she was doing, how she was torturing her? The blood pushed forward and upward, and Quinn felt her clit harden as it, too, altered slowly. Maybe Rachel would not notice 

“No one has made the effort you have,” Rachel replied, her eyes softening. Her voice was airy, so light and breathy that Quinn was sure she was not breathing correctly. “No one has apologized and truly changed for me. Just for me. Finn wanted me to change for him. Jesse just focused on him. And Puck...” 

“Was a manwhore?” 

Rachel laughed before sliding her hands down Quinn's sides, just grazing her breasts, and it was one of the few times she wished she wore a bra. “No, kind and sweet, but too childish. He changed a bit, even if it was just to score. But I like to think he learned a bit, grew up a bit. No, Quinn. You grew and developed.” Her eyes lingered on the blonde's chest; damn thin material exposing her a bit more. Her nipples had harden, almost painfully, but Quinn did not move. “And changed just for me. Because you wanted to. You treated me so wonderfully, and not only that, let me treat you. You didn’t protect me unless I couldn't, and you-”

“Rachel...”

The girl started to grind on her. That was the only term that came to mind. Her penis had fully grown, and Rachel pressed down on her, letting Quinn feel the warmth of her vagina. She moaned and closed her eyes. “Cared for me. I have never felt what I feel right now, certainly not towards Finn, because that was fondness and lust, which was kinda fun if I am being honest, but it was just that fun and-”

“Rachel.”

“It wasn't all that I wanted; I realize that now, even though it has only been two months since the break up, three since you left me. But you came back. You. Came. Back. I can't begin to tell you.”

Quinn reached up and grabbed Rachel's arms, stopping her hands from sliding up and down her sides. But her hips never stopped moving. “Rachel!” 

“What?” The diva stopped talking, a smile grew on her face. The innocent smile that meant she knew exactly what she was doing and would continue to do so. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Quinn said. She groaned as the diva pressed down with her butt. “Don't.”

“Is that for me?” She asked, innocence sparkling in her eyes. She continued to move, side to side, up and down, pressing down hard and then relaxing a bit. Quinn grabbed her hips and tried to still the diva, though she really just helped her move against her, a bit faster now. “Oh. It is.”

“Yes, please stop,” Quinn replied. She felt it building up, the pressure that she knew would come soon. Despite how much she did not want to ejaculate in front Rachel now, it was going to happen and she was determined to enjoy it even more so. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to talk about this,” Quinn said. It was too much. Rachel being aggressive, even it was kind of passive and sweet and kind. Her straight up acceptance, even though she gave reasons, Quinn found it all hard to believe. Her thumbs slipped under both sweaters and touched the skin she had only dreamed of, though the dreams were frequent and rather detailed these days. “I want to talk about-”

“Me practically riding your cock?” Quinn blushed. “You're so clinical sometimes. Say it.”

“No.” The words were wrong. She had to keep it distant from herself. Had to distant the physical feeling from her mind. Rachel was more than just a physical pleasure, and she had dreamt so long of being touched by the girl. 

Rachel stopped moving, the smile never leaving her face. Her nipples hurt now, and her penis throbbed. Quinn tried to push on the diva's hips, but she refused to move, refused to release her tension. “Say it.”

Quinn closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“Say it, or I'll walk away right now, leaving your hard cock aching, begging for me to continue. Say it.”

She repeated the motion. The word would make it too real. It would release the emotions she had hide, ones that she thought maybe Rachel shared, but she could not be sure. 

“Say it, Quinn,and I'll make you cum so hard, with just a touch. Maybe I'll pull up your dress so it is just above your cock, and take it in my hand. Maybe I'll even suck your cock. Would you like that? Would you like that, my sweet, lovely kitty? Would you like to feel the warmth of my mouth, my tongue slide along the veins on your cock, a kiss maybe right on the head as I lick the precum off, moaning with every taste. Are you cut or uncut? Oh if you were uncut, I'll pull the foreskin down your cock with my teeth, let go and graze them down the sides of your cock. I'll do that anyways, though, my kitty, just to see you squirm.” Please move, she begged, but said no words, just a little, but Rachel held still. Quinn could not say the word, because it would mean that she accepted her lust for the brunette. Her penis hurt now. 

“Say it, Quinn.” A hand reached down and cupped her breast, the thumb flicking up and down, up and down, up and down her nipple. Quinn moaned again, shaking her head. It was too much, so much. Her mouth was dry, and her penis just ached more and more as the warmth between Rachel's legs did not lessen. 

The pressure was so close, but Rachel refused to budge, refused to give her the release she needed now. “My...My...” The words felt awkward and she didn't know if she could get them out. The lust grew more and more. The tiger wanted to take the girl, and it would be so easy. The human wanted to love the girl and it would be so hard. 

“Good, kitty,” Rachel said. “Say it and get the reward of my pussy sliding along your hot, rock hard cock, pussy cat, begging for you just to fuck me hard. I'll cum over you, covering your beautiful yellow dress in my juices, letting it soak it. Say it, Quinn.”

“My...my...”

“That's a good kitty,” Rachel said, her other hand no resting on her other breast. She leaned forward a bit, placing her weight on Quinn's chest, squeezing her breasts as Rachel's fingers flicked up and down in an alternating pattern. “Just say it, and I'll let you be free.”

“My...my...” Quinn's lip trembled, “my cock.” Her voice barely exited her mouth. 

“Speak up, kitty,” Rachel replied. “I couldn't hear you. You must speak clearly so I can understand you. What did you say?”

“My cock,” Quinn said, a bit louder this time. Rachel leaned forward.

“Open your eyes.” She complied. “Good kitty.” The diva was inches from her face, staring at her through half slitted eyes and the smirk, the damn beautiful smirk shown brightly on her face. “Now say it so I can hear you.” She squeezed a nipple and Quinn arched her back again. 

“My cock,” Quinn repeated, almost speaking normally.

“Still too soft. You're voice, certainly not this lengthy cock between my legs, my pussy resting on it. Do you feel the wetness of my pussy on your cock, hmm? Isn't it wonderful. How long is your cock anyways?”

“I...I do not-”

“Contractions kitty.”

Quin swallowed. “I don't know.”

“You don't know what?” The fingers squeezed her nipples and Quinn arched up, but the pressure of Rachel's vagina did not increase; she just followed the motion. 

“I don't know how long my...my...” Quinn said. “My cock is.”

“Very good, kitty,” Rachel said, but didn't start moving.

“Please,” Quinn said. The tiger hated the submissiveness; Alpha did not submit, it went against the definition of the word. But the human panted and loved every second of it. She a wet spot on her dress, not large, but just enough to tell her she was close. “Please let me cum.”

“What would you like to cum, pussy cat?”

“my...my...cock,” Quinn replied. The smirk grew larger.

“Oh, I would love-”

“Rachel!” Leroy's voice pierced the room. “Quinn! Come down stairs please.” The six words broke their world.

“To make your cock cum, but daddy needs us now,” Rachel said. 

She rolled her hips and slide off, her hands trailing down Quinn's body, coming close to her pe-no cock, but never touching it. “No,” Quinn begged. “Please no, I need to-”

“Later, sweetie,” Rachel replied. She stood at the foot of the bed and looked down, pulling her sweater up a little and exposing her flat stomach. Quinn followed slightly, moving to sit on her knees to let her tail move. “Look at how hot you made me, kitty. Look at how wet my pussy is.” Quinn moved slowly up to her elbows, staring at Rachel's cro-no pussy, remember her words, if only to get Rachel to finish her, let her cum. The pajamas were pulled up so high that she could see her pussy lips, a detailed camel toe. It was beautiful. Quinn licked her lips, trying to wet them, though her mouth remained dry. “All for your wonderful cock. Maybe some day I'll let to stick it in my pussy. Would you like that?”

The tiger and human both agreed. Quinn's ears twitched in excitement and tail swung back and forth. She was suppose to be the Alpha but with little effort, Rachel dominated her. The diva leaned forward and offered her hand to Quinn. “Come, we need to change, what with your dress covered in my juices and your precum, that hard cock sticking out and my pajamas practically dripping with how wet you made me. Don't want to scare my dad and daddy, though dad probably understands that this is what I want.”

“Huh?” Quinn said. She took the hand and let herself be pulled up. Rachel was surprisingly strong. She stood in front of the diva, who wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist, pressing her cock between their bodies. 

“We talked yesterday,” Rachel said. “The three of us. That's why you couldn't come over. We needed to talk about everything. I didn't tell them about the tiger and the chase and almost sexual assault slash bestiality, or you waking up naked next to me with that wonderful cock of yours rubbing in my skirt, so close to my pussy.”

“What...what...did you talk about?”

“My fluid sexuality,” Rachel said.

“Flu..fluid?”

“Stuttering is not attractive when we are conversing, Quinn. When we are having sexy times, I'll accept it, but I want you to use your words, okay?” Quinn nodded. “Yes, my fluid sexuality. I don't believe in labels as they would limit me. We talked about how I had always had a crush on you, even when you bullied me, though I didn't realize that until recently, and how this summer was the greatest because, even though I thought you were straight, I got to be near you and hold you. I felt so wonderful and safe and loved. Yes loved. I can say that now, looking back, but then I just enjoyed it. I didn't know how much you mattered until you went away.”

“Girls!” Hiram said. “We need to see you downstairs.”

“We're changing for bed,” Rachel shouted back, turning so she did not not direct her stage yell towards Quinn, which she was thankful for. “In a minute.”

“You...like...me?” Quinn asked, the tiger confused by the emotions while the human was just confused by everything. 

Rachel nodded. “I wouldn't do that with anyone Quinn, certainly not since I decided I wanted to be a virgin until I was twenty five.” She did not know if she could wait that long. “I held off Finn for two years now, his pressure was kinda pathetic really, and other than straight up begging, which was kinda adorable in a way and, certainly I liked the power, did nothing for me. I thought I would grow into finding him physically attractive enough to sleep with, but certainly not before twenty five. You changed that. You and your large cock.”

“I...did?” 

“Yep,” Rachel said. “Now come, let's get changed and see what dad and daddy want so we can come back up here and watch movies until we fall asleep in my bed.”

Quinn shook her head. “What about-”

“What about what, Quinn?” Rachel said. “Use your words.”

“My cock,” Quinn finished. It hurt so much right now and the diva slide up and down once. She moaned at the contact.

“Oh, well,” Rachel smirked up at the blonde. “We'll see.”

“You can't just leave me hanging here,” Quinn replied. “Please don't, I need you to make me cum.”

“Such lovely vulgar words out of your mouth, kitty.” Rachel let go of Quinn and stood up to kiss her cheek and scratch her ears. Her other hand slide up her back before running down it, petting her tail and grabbing her butt, ass. “Later, maybe. I'll take care of your cock, so don't you kay?” She nodded. “Do you have sleep ware? No? I'll take care of it.” Rachel turned to go to her dresser but stopped and turned back to stare at the blonde. “Do you have a pussy still?”

Quinn nodded. 

“Good, don't touch that either, kay?” Quinn nodded. “Excellent.” Rachel clapped her hands and turned to finish her next mission, but paused again. “Wait.” She returned to Quinn and pulled up her dress, exposing her cock to the air. “Good no panties. So hot by the way. Stay right here.” 

She went to her dresser and pulled out a few things before replacing them back, looking for something specific. When she turned around, Rachel held out some cloths. “Wear these.” Quinn walked forward, her cock bouncing. The tiger cried out to rush forward and take the girl; the human said to walk slower and let Rachel enjoy the way she looked. The diva's eyes remained focused on her cock, and she licked her lips.

Quinn took the cloths, frowning when she saw a pair of short shorts and a tank top. “Will these fit?”

“Try them on, we'll see.” She turned to go to the bathroom, but Rachel's hand grabbed her elbow and turned her back to face her. “No, here.”

Quinn was going to expose herself to the girl she..cared about so much. Who she lusted and wanted to mate with so much. The human loved it, and the tiger wanted to show off why the diva should have sex with her. “Here, I'll help you, kitty.” Rachel grabbed Quinn's dress and pulled it down; her breasts squeezing down and the top scrapped her nipples. She moaned. It continued down, resting on her cock. “Hold still, please.” Rachel grabbed the sides of the dress, avoiding her cock and shimmied it, rubbing against it and pushing it down, as she pulled it to the floor. “Go on, get dressed.”

Quinn felt so hot, so red, but did as she was told. The shorts were tight, but slide up enough, like underwear, though her cock peeked out the top. The tank top was worse; her breasts straining against it, barely covering her stomach, to a few inches above her belly button. “Wonderful, but we don't want to give dad and daddy a heart attack.” She walked over and grabbed the large sweater. “Wear this too.” 

The sweater was bulky and heavy. Quinn was warm enough, her skin practically on fire. She ran warmer than most, a byproduct of her were-tigerness, but this would be took much. Rachel turned around and bent over, shaking her perfectly toned ass at the blonde, her pussy highlighted by the soaked area. “These will do.” She turned around holding some cloths. “I'm gonna change in the bathroom. You wait right here.”

Quinn nodded, and Rachel stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “Good kitty.” She disappeared out of sit, though her ears followed the girl, twitched. 

She sighed. If she was going downstairs to meet the Berry's, she had to accept her human side, at least just enough to get her tail and ears back inside her. Quinn closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, exhaling fast. Slowly, her vertebra shortened and disappeared, the tail sliding in. The ears shifted down her head until they were properly at the side, shrinking down to their normal size. Her cock did not disappear. 

Rachel returned to her room and Quinn turned around to see her wearing a robe. She was disappointed. She had hoped that Rachel wore something similar to her own. “Ready?” The blonde nodded. “Kay, lets go.” 

She held out a hand and Quinn took it, smiling at the gentle squeeze, and let herself be pulled out.

This wasn't how she expected it, conforming to Rachel's wishes and desires, letting the girl dominate her. Never in her fantasies had she given up control. But now the tiger was content, and the human happy. It was probably better this way. A girl who accepted and cared clearly deeply about her was something that Quinn would have done anything to have, especially when it was Rachel Berry. No, this wasn't how she originally wanted it to be. But she knew she would love every minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have no idea why I'm writing this fast, or this much. Well, I know why the latter; smut is fun to write and I tend to extend it more than I should. 
> 
> I'll probably catch flack about personalities here, but honestly, I think it works well given what we knew about Rachel and Quinn from canon. Rachel is a control freak, and Quinn tends to do what she is told, especially by authority figures. 
> 
> Anyways, I don't own the characters. As always, please read and review. I would love to hear from all of you follows. Comments help me know if I'm doing right or wrong by you guys. The audience matters just as much as the content. If people stop enjoying this let me know and I'll work to make it wonderful once more.
> 
> Enjoy folks, and remember: Rated M for mature ::spoken in video game voice


	5. Chapter 5

November 7th:

Five days of school had passed, and Rachel had adored the majority of it. Partly because the practice for the play had been extremely successful, even with Artie's demands that she and Blaine weren't sensual enough; an opinion that changed after Sunday. He actually asked her if she had sex over the weekend, and she said no, and the look of shock brightened her day. Though Coach Beiste did slap him upside the head for such a crude suggestion. 

She was a virgin, despite her sexual domination of Quinn, Sunday night. They didn't do anything else that night, partly because she felt a little embarrassed by her actions...but mostly because Quinn was tired, exhausted from anxiety of her leaving her, a thought that had never crossed her mind. They fell asleep watching “Angel”, and Rachel couldn't decide which activity she loved more, sexual activity with Quinn, or just sleeping with her. 

The conversation with her parents went well enough, though Quinn stared her daddy down when he kept pushing for more uncomfortable answers that even the diva was unsure she could answer. The brunette didn't flinch, and the ice queen just stared at the man, daring him to question her. In the end, her dad and daddy accepted that Rachel was old enough to make a decision and that decision was to explore her relationship with Quinn. She was hesitant to place a label on it, especially given that they had just revealed their interest in each other.

Quinn did ask, albeit shyly, in front of her parents for a date on Friday. Today. An actual date with the former HBIC. 

School was interesting. On Monday, while Rachel drove them, they talked about her controlling and teasing the blonde in the bedroom. Quinn's blush bubble was going to break, she swore, but at least she was willing to talk about the fact that it would be unfair if the diva dominated her in public as well as private, and that sometimes she would have to be prepared when the tiger-self wanted to take charge. Which could happen. Rachel just smiled and cupped Quinn's pussy through her tight black jeans. It was wonderful having a not-girlfriend who had both parts, she decided, as well as one who willing to talk rational about these things. She deemed the agreement acceptable. 

The week went slow, as they only really saw each other during Glee practice and a bit during the play, though Quinn wasn't required often with her small—but important, Rachel reminded herself—part. Sometimes, Rachel would see her in the hallways, the frown disappearing quickly at the sight of her, but most of the time Quinn just wasn't around, and it was beginning to get annoying. They didn't have any classes together this year, which was upsetting because Rachel would have preferred to have spent time with Quinn at least some time during school. In fact, Quinn didn't show up at lunch the entire week, having to spend time working on some AP Art project that Santana swore would make Van Gogh cry. She should have felt hurt that her not-girlfriend wasn't sharing that aspect with her, but it would be a conversation for later.

They texted each other at night, pushing the boundaries almost into sexting, but Quinn was the one who backed off, controlling the conversation so it never went too far. Rachel knew she was pushing the girl who had just accepted so much about herself, but she was horny damn it, and wanted at least her not-girlfriend to suffer the same fate until she took care of it. Something about having a cat-girl not-girlfriend was incredibly odd and exciting, and Rachel had surfed the internet Monday night after school, locking herself in her room, discarding her pants and underwear to sit on a towel and looking up cat-girls. One hand remained firmly on the mouse, the other on her pussy, and Rachel was getting more and more excited as each day passed, thinking of her not-girlfriend and all the things that she wanted to do. 

They agreed, well, Quinn demanded and Rachel gave in considering she wasn't that horny at the time and did not know how horny she would be, that full-on homerun sex was not on the table, but anything else was fair game. So each night, she would send fantasies to the girl, short little sentences of just ideas and things she wanted from her—to do to her... to do with her. The internet was a fantastic tool, Rachel decided.

Now, five days had passed, and the texting was not enough; pictures and stories on the internet were not enough. Rachel wore a short plaid skirt that Quinn complimented, black stockings that went all the way up her legs to her thighs. Her top was nothing special, at least the animal sweater wasn't—an owl this time, but underneath she wore nothing else, and felt her nipples harden and relax constantly in the temperamental school and their terrible heating system. For once, Rachel was glad she was enough on the smaller end that she could do without a bra...or panties, at least now. They were ruined and Rachel felt comfortable enough now that school was over to remove them. It was worth the wait after slightly flashing Quinn all morning, or texting the girl about how she wanted the blonde to touch her during class, in the locker room, the choir room. She wanted Quinn to suffer for not showing her any real attention this week. As her not-girlfriend, Rachel demanded at least some form of physical form of adoration, and this lingering hand graze crap was not doing the trick. Her attire would show—

“Mhmmm,” Quinn said, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her back flush against her front. “You smell wonderful, have I ever told you that?" 

Rachel shuttered as Quinn pressed against her body, feeling the hard cock through tight jeans and her plaid skirt. One of her hands slid up and down the diva's front, pulled up her sweater as it slid underneath to her ribs.

Up and down, up and down...so close to her breasts that now ached, and Rachel just wanted to moan and beg, but Quinn was in charge damn it, why couldn't she just give her what she wanted! “No,” she breathed out, “You didn't.”

“Over the summer I first noticed it, how your scent enticed me...tortured me, begged me to come near you and just drown in it. Oh I could have spent hours and hours near you, Rae, you in my arms and I...” Quinn nuzzled against Rachel's neck, pressing her nose hard against her pulse point before pulling away slightly and kissing it. “It's intoxicating. It begs me to fuck you, take you and just fuck you until you are a mess of sweat and cum.”

“As much as I—...God, Quinn,” Rachel breathed out; Quinn's other hand slipped down her skirt, and she pushed their bodies up against the lockers, so Rachel had to hold herself up unless she wanted to be smashed against the metal objects. But her arms wouldn't hold her up if Quinn pressed any harder; she didn't. The tigress continued to grind her cock against her ass. Rachel complied and pushed back, moving with the motion, trying to get some pressure on her body. Quinn's hand slowly moved further and further...closer to her bare, wet, throbbing pussy. “Please just a little bit.”

“It's so strong today,” Quinn grinned. She started alternating between soft bites and harsh kisses on her neck, with a lick thrown in every once in a while up to her ear. Rachel relaxed her arms a bit, trying hard to remain upright as Quinn just touched her, so close to her nipples which begged attention and her pussy which craved a touch. 

“It's been a week,” Rachel said. “I've missed you so much, Quinn.” She loved when Quinn dropped all pretense and talked dirty; it was so different from normal that it just made the words even better. She took a sharp breath as Quinn thrust hard against her, biting at her neck, sucking at times, intent to leave a nice mark. Hickey's weren't cool or wanted, unless it was from a tigress who was trying to eat a person, trying to taste her flavor, then it was acceptable, Rachel figured. “Just...please.”

“Me too,” Quinn replied. “You have no idea, Rae, how much I missed you.” The hand on her waist stopped just above the hairs she had trimmed perfectly above her pussy, and the one below her breast just sat on her ribs, a thumb brushing her underboob, refusing to touch her in any meaningful way. 

Rachel pulled a hand away from the lockers to grab the wrist of the hand just above her crotch, trying to push it down. But Quinn didn't budge. Underneath her fingers, Rachel felt firm muscles and a warmth that permeated her body, warming every cold portion of her. 

“You smell so good. I want you here, I want to see that beautiful and tight pussy. I know you're a virgin; Finn barely touched you. His scent was never covering yours. Let mine. I'll make you mine; I'll show you what a real cock can do to you, what you wanted Sunday night. Oh, I knew you desired it, your pussy smelled so wonderful then. Now...” she trailed off and sniffed right below her ear. “I just want to eat you up.”

The breeze between her legs no longer chilled her, having suffered through last period with only thoughts of Quinn and that wonderful cock that she needed to measure, the one grinding on her ass. She felt her skirt slowly move up until Quinn's jeans rubbed against her bare skin, leaving only one layer between her and the cock that now haunted her wet dreams. “Please, Quinn...”

“I could take you right now,” she replied, and Rachel moved between their bodies, trying to find the superman belt buckle that Quinn enjoyed wearing. “I could take you, fuck you so hard. Would you like that, Berry? I bet you'd enjoy being my little slut, exposing yourself to the world as I tear your clothes away.” Quinn's hand slipped a bit further down and began to play with the bit of hair. Rachel wanted to move, but Quinn's grip was too tight, so she instead continued to fumble with the belt. 

“Oh, the little stage slut you are,” Quinn continued, her breath warming Rachel's ear, a kiss and a bite every once in a while. “Where are your panties, my mate? Did you lose them?”

“No...” Rachel breathed out. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, giving more of her neck to the tigress. “Good kitty, take me here-”

Quinn growled and thrust hard; her arms buckled a bit, but Rachel remained standing. She whimpered at the sound, and she could almost feel the tigress' cock pulsing in the jeans. She needed to touch her, to have Quinn enter her. She needed it. “No.” Quinn thrust again. “I am in charge. Not you.”

“Please...”

“Say it.”

“You're...you're...” Rachel moved as Quinn started to hump her. Her hands struggled to remove the damn belt.

“I'm what?” Quinn growled once more, her voice an octave lower and vibrating her must, sending tingles down Rachel's spine and to her pussy; it was better than any vibrator she owned. The thought that it should be impossible couldn't enter her mind, but Quinn could. 

“In charge.”

“Good girl, so what happened to your panties, Rae? You didn't give them away did you?”

She shook her head. 

“You didn't give them to that poor excuse for a male specimen, Israel, right?” Another shake of her head. “Good girl, so where are your panties? I can smell you, so rich and full, Rae. Oh you should smell this.” Her other hand slide up slowly, now cupping her breast.

“In...in...” She finally loosened the buckle, now just to remove it enough to get to the button. She needed Quinn.

“Words, my girl,” Quinn said.

“In my locker, oh Barbara,” Rachel groaned, her hips rising as Quinn's fingers brushed very, very lightly against her clit. “Please, more, I need-”

“Oh, and why are they there?" Quinn teased. The zipper was next. So close. Her clit was swollen; she could feel it against her skirt as Quinn moved her hand just above it now, entangled with her landing strip. 

“I'm so wet...”

“I know, I can smell it...feel it, even.” Quinn bit her ear, holding it in between her teeth. Rachel groaned, but not from the pain. She was ignoring all of it, the awkward position of her body, the bites and squeezes, how her hand was bent in a way she was sure it shouldn't be in, but didn't think about. She just touched Quinn's cock through the fabric, feeling its heat and wanting it on her, in her. “It's so-”

Rachel was wet. Very, very wet. Soaking, in fact. Water dripped down her sweater, her skirt, her stockings. Her wonderfully teased hair now hung about face, in her eyes and mouth. It pooled briefly around her now freezing pussy, which she didn't think should be possible by all fairness in the world, and slid down her legs. Quinn pulled away quickly. 

She turned around to see her not-girlfriend dripping wet as well. And the wonderful cock poking out the slit of her jeans, her nipples hard from the cold water or hard from Rachel; she hoped it was the latter. Quinn's tight, black jeans hugged her hips well; the shirt about a man who was disturbed,why were they disturbed, if they were they needed to get help, stretched across her small, marvelously formed breasts. A jacket with its sleeves torn off hung barely on her arms. The only thing that would have made the entire look even hotter, besides being completely soaked, was the stripes. Oh Barbara. Stripes. 

Quinn was close to transforming.

“As hot as it would be to see your hobbit pussy fucked so hard by this pussy,” Santana said, “you need to cool off.” She was standing a few feet behind Quinn holding a bucket, showing something halfway between a smile and a smirk. Brittany looked worried. 

“Nice ass, Berry,” Santana added; Rachel blushed and pulled down her skirt. “Didn't think you had it in you to go commando, though Quinn here probably loves the fact.” 

“Quinn,” the blonde cheerio said; her backpack in her hands, and the straps twisted and untwisted, “you're-”

“Who the fuck do you-” Quinn stepped forward, her hands in fists and the growl aggressive now, not possessive. The stripes glowed something fierce and she watched as the blonde started to hunch over, ears slowly poking out her short-cropped hair, a tail sliding up and out the black open pants. At least, she thought she saw all of this. Rachel's eyes were kinda glued to Quinn's cock, looking at how it glistened.

“Lucy Quinn Fabray!” Brittany shouted. Rachel stepped back, and Quinn paused mid-stride, the anger disappearing with confusing. “You're too close.” 

Confusion was replaced by horror as Quinn bolted away, running faster than Rachel thought was possible. “Go to her, Britts,” Santana softly said. What was going on?

“She'll trust you more,” Brittany replied. “She needs her protector, Tana.”

“I know, but she'd trust me to explain this to Berry. She needs her best friend more.” Brittany nodded. Rachel started to shiver. Dripping wet, the wrong kind, sans panties and bra, with a sweater that just absorbed the water and skirt that allowed it to slip underneath to her pussy. This was a terrible way to cool off. The blonde cheerio nodded. 

“Walk with me, hobbit,” Santana said.

“Ww..wh...what just... ha...ha-” Rachel tried, but her jaw started to shake and tremble from the cold... she hated not-winter, with its freezing temperatures and lack of fun snow. And now no Quinn to keep her warm. This just sucked. Rachel was shivering and trembling from the cold, not from the metaphorical blue balls she received. 

“I'll explain as we get you properly dressed,” Santana took Rachel by the arm and dragged the barely smaller girl to the nearest bathroom. When did she get so strong? 

They stepped inside, which was a nice way of saying that the Latina threw her in, and locked the door behind them. Santana tossed Rachel a bag. “Strip and get dressed.”

“In..in....fro-”

“It's nothing I haven't seen before,” she smirked. Which was probably true given the almost daily changing with the cheerios and her almost constant having the sex with Brittany. “Besides, I want to see what has Q's metaphorical panties in a bunch.” Rachel glared. “Hop to it Hobbit. Quinn will kill me if you freeze to death.”

It wasn't that Rachel was embarrassed by her body; she worked very hard to make it as toned and curved as it was. It was just that... it was Santana, and while they were friends(FRIENDS!), the girl loved to tease her and everyone else. The Latina rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, returning the glare. “I promise, I'll say nothing bad, happy?” 

Rachel beamed at her. “Thank you, Santana,” she said and pulled off her sweater and threw it to the ground. 

“Dios Mio,” Santana said, eyes widening as Rachel shimmied her hips to push the skirt down before standing on one foot to remove a stocking then the other. “I love Brittany more than you can imagine-”

“I can imagine a bit,” Rachel said, bending over at the waist as she looked through the bag. Panties, shirt, pants, socks and flats. Good. And the hitch in Santana's breath was even better.

“But had I known that you looked like that, Berry... under your clothes? I would have fucked you freshmen year so hard, you'd be ruined for men. ”

“I would have probably let you,” Rachel said, her attention focused on sliding up the black and stars, how thoughtful, panties on. They fit wonderfully. And comfortable, too. She was going to keep these. 

“What the fuck?”

“Yep,” The jeans were next, and while a bit tight in the legs, which was okay since it would show off her perfect ass if she did say so herself, were also the correct size. 

“You would have-”

“Yep,” Rachel said. The t-shirt was red and white, and without a bra, her nipples would certainly be showing. A sacrifice she supposed until she got home. “At least at first.” 

“Why didn't—Why didn't you say anything?”

“Because being even bi-sexual in this town is looked down upon, given how it treats dad and daddy.” Rachel pulled it on; this one barely fit as well, coming just down to her belly button. At least it accented her breasts, something she was extremely happy about. “Besides, do you remember the first thing our second conversation, the one we had after home room together?” She slipped the flats on, her cleavage showing as she bent over to do so. 

Santana shook her head. Rachel turned around, keeping the smile on her face. She could laugh at it now, her crush on the freshmen Santana, who had yet to mature fully into this Latina goddess. “You didn't say anything when I saw you at the end of the day. I was gonna say something, maybe ask if we could hang out and everything, see if there was a chance you'd like me like me, but you had already found the other cheerios and Brittany and Quinn. You had a slushie in your hand and threw it at me, probably on order from one of the senior Cheerios who heard about my tendency to be verbose and annoying everyone with how much better I was than they were.” 

The bathroom was silent and still. Rachel turned her eyes from Santana, looking at the ground and shuffling her feet. “After all, I was just a loser-nobody with a silly little crush on one of the more interesting and cute girls in my grade. I hadn't met Quinn who had become the standard of beauty for the school, but still, you were beautiful even then.”

“Yeah,” Santana said with a slight furrow of her brows. “I may be hot, but Quinn captures the room and holds it hostage with her body.” She was changing the topic ignoring how much Rachel was hurt by what she did, and Rachel was ignoring the tears in the girls eyes. “Completely a turn around from fucking Finnoence.”

“I know, right?” Rachel said. “Looking back, I'm trying to see what exactly made him so wonderful to me.”

“Because he was one of the first people to treat you nicely.” Santana stepped closer to Rachel, almost in her personal space. While she wasn't afraid of the girl any more, learned behavior was difficult to stop. She stepped back until she hit the sink. “Is that...is that why you're friends with us?”

Rachel shook her head. “Nope,” she replied, smirking now. “I figured I couldn't go wrong with having three gorgeous women as my friends, gave me something to stare at when I was bored hanging out.” 

Santana barked out a laugh. “I'm glad to see the bite back, Berry,” she said. “You are right, we're the hottest bitches in the school. You could be too if you dressed more like this.”

“I prefer to let Quinn see how I dress,” Rachel said. “Speaking of... why did you throw the water on us? Was it to stop us from going to far? While I admit looking back I was lost a bit in the haze-”

“Lost?” Santana asked. “Hobbs, you were fucking drowning in it. And it would have ended exactly as I said, you fucking in the hallways, possibly with Quinn in her tiger form.”

“How do you know that?” Rachel said. “We have some measure of control. At least I do.”

“Don't need to hear about your kinky games with Quinn,” Santana grimaced. “You and Britts can compare notes later. Now, over the summer, do you remember how Quinn would avoid us for a few days? How it was difficult to get her out of her house?”

“I assumed she was just having horrible menstrual cycles.” 

“Kinda?” She looked slightly thoughtful. The face looked awkward compared to what Rachel normally saw on the Latina. “It was more because yours were coming up.”

“What do you mean? “ Rachel asked. “Why would Quinn care about- Oh... oh.”

“Figured it out.” 

“I calculated my cycle once, after a health class,” Rachel said, blushing bright red. I know roughly when my peak ovulation period is. It was during then, right?”

“Q was right horny then, had a hard time concentrating on anything, had a hard time understanding it as well.”

“She told me about her struggles this summer.” 

“Cool,” Santana walked over and sat on the ground. She patted the spot next to her. Rachel tried to raise an eyebrow to emulate Quinn be failed. “This is one of the cleaner ones, Hobbs, so don't get your fresh panties in a bunch. Britts and Q are gonna be a while and you need to learn a few things because this relationship-”

“We're not dating, yet,” Rachel said.

“But you're willing to fuck in the hallways? Girl, you are as freaky as I thought you'd be,” Santana said. “Seriously, sit down. We do need to talk. Or I talk and you listen. While that is normally against your standard modus operandi, you need to know this because it'll help Q.”

Rachel walked over and sat right next to Santana, saying nothing. The Latina was right in that she would want to speak and talk about this, defend her not-girlfriend, but the glare told her to remain quiet and to just listen. 

“Despite what the school thinks, Britts is Q's best friend. They get along great, and love talking about animals and cartoons and books. Q and I are really good friends, and we have our own conversations-arguments and disagreements, but nothing like those two. Britts knew Lucy before she changed her name to Quinn and remained friends with the girl for so long. Hell, she even moved to this town just to continue to be with her. I love the girl—my girls, both of them, but Britts and Q are bros and have been before I moved here. Girls knew each other from preschool, being blonde buddies and everything. I was the odd one out, a tag along, until middle school.” Santana smiled, probably thinking of their past. 

“I was the first to learn of Q's,” she waved a hand about, “Issues. I was the first to comfort her and hold her as she cried about her strangeness and how she hated herself so much. I was the one who promised her that I would take care of her and protect her and Britt from anything. She was broken, Berry, I'd never seen her like that; this strong and powerful girl who was also a tiger, a cute little kitten really-”

“Please tell you have pictures,” Rachel interrupted.

“Fuck yeah,” Santana smirked. “Never want to forget that adorable girl, even though she was twelve when I found out. Q had grown into her body by then, hitting puberty and all that shit early. She was perfect even back then, and it hurt to see her that way. By making the promise, I was part of their group, and my life turned around.

“Being a person of color sucks in this town just as much as being gay or lesbian, Hobbs. I hope you understand that. You are ethnic, but you pass, you know that?” Rachel nodded. “I didn't, and I got into so many fights in middle school, sticking up for myself and everything, sixty seven fights over three years. I was more of a badass then Puck really, and he was just a manwhore, fucking milfs and non hot moms because he could, because his dad left him and he had to be this idea of a man. I was the hot Latin chick who lost her virginity at fourteen to some fuck who didn't care. I had sex and fought to protect myself, but mostly to protect Q.

“She could be cold and distant. It helped control the tiger then, when they were separate,” Santana said, closing her eyes. “Brittany would be her happiness and joy, living life so full and free, without worry of the consequences that her sperm donor force fed her, trying to control everything about her life. I was her anger, her dislike and hatred. It was the best we could do so she stayed in control. When she saw you, though, that control was threatened. Q was so confused and she hates not understanding things, not knowing why. And the feelings you invoked in her freshmen year scared her, and so I lashed out when she couldn't. I always did, so the tiger didn't have to, so it wouldn't fucking kill someone.

“Mami says I protect Q because of the druidish heritage we got from cross-breeding with some celts, or some other fucking pagan society, a while back. No one ever told her about Quinn's issues, but she knows, I don't know how, and Q doesn't know that she knows. She's the one who taught me a lot about weretigers and their culture and decimation slash genocide, and why Q should be protected, and what I could do to help. Be a warden against the dangers of the wild, she said, or some crap like that. I didn't believe it until this year. That was everything up to last year, when we opened our eyes and you found us.”

“You found me, you mean.”

Santana shook her head. “Britts had it right when she said you saved us, Rachel.” She stopped breathing for a second; Santana never, not even when they became friends over the summer, used her first name. “You saved me from my hatred and anger, from being consumed with the need to protect and shelter Quinn. You saved Brittany from being lost in herself, giving into the delirium of happiness and joy. And you certainly saved Quinn. Never has that girl been happier and stable, for the most part. Which leads us to today.”

“And the bucket of water.”

“And the bucket of water,” Santana said, smiling. “Quinn is an animal. She is both human and an animal, and listen closely, because this is important: you can not forget that she is a fucking animal. Animals live to do three things and three things only: Sleep, eat, and fuck. While her human-self is capable and wants so much more, the animal is her instinct. Think of human as logic and the animal as emotion, it's easier that way, and you come close to understanding Q.”

“How do you-”

“Mami,” Santana replied. She picked up Rachel's hand, her thumb rubbing the back, trying to be soothing. “When you are ovulating, Quinn's control over her emotions slip, her desire to fuck increases. I have no idea why it's you versus anyone else, but it is. And since she grew that large cock of hers, becoming a male tiger, grats by the way.”

“Thank you, I am rather happy to have both worlds,” Rachel replied. 

“Britts and I have a strap-on for that,” Santana said, and Rachel blushed, “At least until... never mind. So right now, with you in the prime for baby-making juice to make a baby, her tiger wants to do the third of its three primal urges. Given that you are now somewhat getting freaky, it will make it harder to control. So you'll have to be the one.”

“That's gonna be kinda hard,” Rachel replied. 

“I know Quinn will be-”

“Not that,” Rachel said. Never had she had this embarrassing of a conversation before. “No, Quinn and I have an arrangement.”

“How so?”

“I dominate her in the bedroom, she's in control outside of it.”

“So hot,” Santana said. “Britts and I are stealing that.”

“Really? What else-”

“Compare notes with Brittany later, Hobbs,” Santana said. “You don't want to switch it around do you? Fine, what do you know of BDSM?”

Rachel blushed. “I've been researching sexual aspects recently and I stumbled upon-”

“So nothing right?” Santana said. “Fifty Shades of Grey did a shitty job of explaining it, glorifying it without really understanding it, while making it incredible unsafe through fantasizing it for those who might actually be interested. BDSM, specifically the domination portion, deals with dominant and submissive relations. Some more committed than others. But what you need to understand is that the submissive is who is control, they set the levels of what they can handle, they can tell you stop, they tell you want they want. The dom should comply with those wishes because its a relationship of trust and care, not controlling.”

“And you know this, how?” 

Santana smiled. “I never kiss and tell.”

“You do all the time,” Rachel said, kicking her foot out. “You can't stop talking about it.”

“In general, never details, right?” Rachel nodded. “Good, you understand, kinda, maybe, probably not. Look, when Quinn dominates you, it's for your pleasure, when you dominate her, it's for her pleasure, just remember that. So when she gets like this, remember that you are in control, that you decide what you need. She will never hurt you kay? I won't let her.” Rachel nodded again. “The tiger wants you so much, but it will never, never hurt you. I'll make sure of it.”

“Is that why...” 

“You aren't ready for sex,” Santana said with a shake of her head. “As horny as you are, and believe me its not that cold in here.” Rachel crossed her arms over her breasts, flushing even more. “You aren't ready, at least with Quinn. Take your time, enjoy the rest of the bases, and don't swing for the fences every time. Just enjoy having her around.”

Rachel was silent; her mind racing and struggling to form cohesive thoughts. Maybe Santana was right, maybe she was just enjoying the not-relationship so much that the sexual aspect highlighted it, enhanced it. She didn't want to give it up. Spending time with her was great, but right now, Rachel wanted to play with Quinn. “I'm not saying slow down, but don't move any faster. It'll make it when you lose your virginity to Quinn that much more special.”

“So you'll protect me?” Santana nodded. 

“Of all things I just said, that's what you take away?” Rachel smiled. “Of course, you're one of mine now, and it's only right that I protect my own.” Santana looked away, a soft gentle smile, so foreign and strange on the girls face. “And maybe, you could be my best friend so that-” Rachel smiled and hugged Santana tightly around the neck, pressing her breasts against her and practically climbing in her lap. She hadn't had a protector before, and a best friend sounded even better. Quinn would be her not-girlfriend-eventually-turned-girlfriend and Santana could be her not-yet-best-friend-but-soon-to-be. It was kinda fun idea, when she really thought about it

“I leave for a few minutes,” Brittany said, “and I come back to this?” Rachel jumped back, pushing Santana away. She wasn't cheating, this was just being friendly, she knew it. She hoped Santana knew it, but the Latina didn't say a word, smirking at Rachel to dig herself out of the hole she was in. Having a best friend and she was ruining that within seconds. Seconds! 

“Quinn..what...why.. how'd you find... it's not what you...,” Rachel tried to say. Her not-girlfriend stood behind the Cheerio-dressed blonde, smiling? Why was she-

“This is so great!” Brittany rushed forward and knelt in front of Rachel, picking up her hands and starting to bounce them in Rachel's lap. “Oh Santana can finally have a bff, like Quinn and I. It'll be wonderful. Now she won't feel left out when I want to hang out with her.”

“Britts,” Santana whined.

“And then you and I can hang out when they need to be bitchy or something, it'll be awesome. We'll have cake and ice cream and cookies and a tea party—have you had a tea party? I mean I know I’m supposed to be too old for it, but sometimes its nice just to sit around and drink tea and pretend you're the queen of England commanding the troops to fire upon the Spaniards. This is fantastic!"

“Molte benne,” Santana replied. Brittany squealed, which echoed nicely in the bathroom and tackled her girlfriend. Quinn walked over and offered a hand to Rachel. She had changed too, wearing a sundress, showing off her toned body. The desire boiled up, but she decided it was better to be modest and gentle, then horny and rough, despite the fact that she was really the latter. It was better for Quinn.

The blonde picked up Rachel's wet clothes, wrung them out in the sink before throwing them into a plastic bag found in the bag that Santana gave her. Quinn had not spoken since entering the bathroom; she just offered her hand to the diva and pulled her up with a grace that she was not expecting. They left the couple who was probably dangerously close to fucking on the floor. 

Quinn led Rachel from the school, carrying both their bags and their wet clothes, all without releasing Rachel's hand. She gave a squeeze every time Rachel looked up at her, but said nothing. The stripes were gone, and Rachel, who wanted to pout at the thought, saw no tell-tale bump in the dress where her cock should have been. 

She didn't try to start up a conversation.

They reached the almost empty parking lot, and without much preamble, they got into Rachel's car, Quinn in the driver's seat. She held the keys in her hand, just over the ignition. “I'm sorry,” Quinn said. “I was overwhelmed by my senses and-” 

“You don't have to apologize,” Rachel said, “Santana explained things to me.”

“She told you about my control issues.”

“About how you want to fuck me until I'm pregnant with your kittens? Yes.”

“Can you...” Quinn closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Can you please not curse right now.”

Rachel frowned. “Sorry.”

“It's fine...I'm just struggling here, and I need...” Quinn looked over. “I need you to understand that I want you, Rae. I want you so bad, it is driving me mad.”

“Beatles, 'She's So heavy,' record in September of '69, written by Lennon, though both Lennon and McCartney appear as writers. A great deal of psychedelic influence. Not one of their better...one...but...” Quinn was smiling down at Rachel, amused and patient. She shrunk into her seat, trying to smile, but the embarrassment was enough to hold that fakeness back. “Sorry.”

“Do not,” Quinn said. “I thought it was wonderful that you know it. It was why I said that.” Rachel looked back up and beamed. Her weirdness and knowledge of music bothered some people, but Quinn accepted it, liked it even. 

“Cool.”

“All I am asking is that, for now, while we are in public,” Quinn said, sighing heavily. She started the car, but refused to finish her sentence.

“I'll behave, Quinn,” Rachel said. “I promise. And I'll make sure you do.” She didn't want to, but at least in public, she could control herself for Quinn's sake. The girl was not a public figure, who adored attention like Rachel did. She wasn't lying when she exaggerated that she was like Tinker Bell in needing applause to live. “Are we still on?”

“For the date?” A feral smirk grew on Quinn's face, and Rachel wanted to be afraid, she really did. Her body just decided to grow a bit warm, and she felt warm again. “I wouldn't want to miss it for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zomg, its been like... days since i've updated. That's because of two things. First off, I have a beta! ::kermit the frog:: YAAAAY! She is absolutely wonderful. Because of a beta, though, I am slowing down posting so she can edit and I can make any changes if necessary. 
> 
> Two: i've been writing.... a lot.... like chapter 6 is completely done with more smut, and chapter 7 is being started, and my god, graduate school, how did you get important. Shruggs..
> 
> Anyways, thank you to all my followers and cult members, I love to see you guys and gals showing up and causing havoc. Remember your Julius Caesar my friends. 
> 
> I do not own Glee. If I did, we would have probably been banned from Fox and picked up on HBO or something, given the amount of sex that would occur. I own the plot and characterizations, so go me.
> 
> As always, read and review. 
> 
> Because I can-  
> SurrealSteamPuck(WeOffendedShadows)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your friends are cockblockers, Quinn,” Rachel said, slamming her locker shut. Quinn leaned nearby, smiling down at her not-girlfriend, a term that the diva insisted upon using since they had not formalized their relation yet. One date a couple does not make. This ignored the fact that they had sexted each other constantly over the weekend, where they did not meet up. Between Rachel's over abundance of commitments to various activities, including the play and Glee, and Quinn's recent decision to pursue art and writing as means of taking up her time, they were not able to find a time that worked best for them, and Rachel's parents.

November 10th

“Your friends are cockblockers, Quinn,” Rachel said, slamming her locker shut. Quinn leaned nearby, smiling down at her not-girlfriend, a term that the diva insisted upon using since they had not formalized their relation yet. One date a couple does not make. This ignored the fact that they had sexted each other constantly over the weekend, where they did not meet up. Between Rachel's over abundance of commitments to various activities, including the play and Glee, and Quinn's recent decision to pursue art and writing as means of taking up her time, they were not able to find a time that worked best for them, and Rachel's parents.

The Berry's were wonderful people, kind and support of Rachel's decision to explore her sexuality with the girl who bully and tormented her through most of high school. They were okay with Rachel being somewhat sexually active, given that Quinn had to sit through the conversation where she learned that the diva was on the pill, and that if she was going to have sex any time soon, make sure her door was closed. Fear was not an issue, embarrassment on the other hand was. “How so,” she asked, leaning next to Rachel as the girl fumbled around with her books.

Rachel spun her lock around and started up the combination. “Santana called, no demanded, that I help her yesterday, hence our missed 'date', if you wish to be charitable and call it such.”

“Spending time together is not a date?”

“No,” Rachel said. She threw her books in and pulled out a different set. “I do not. We spend time together as it is; a date is us planning something special and following through on it. If anything, that was a not-date that failed to launch.”

Quinn nodded, sighing at the thought. “So just like I'm your not-girlfriend, right?

“Yes, exactly,” Rachel sighed and turned to the blonde, though refused to look her in the eye. “No, nothing like that, I'm sorry. I'm frustrated.”

“Anything I can help with? I am better now, the tiger is under control and rather ashamed with how it acted-”

“No, sweetie, it's not that.” Rachel shrugged, and looked down the hallway at some of the other Gleeks, specifically Kurt and Mercedes talking. 

“They bothering you.”

“No.”

“Then what is wrong?” 

“I don't know. Between the play and Glee and us and Finn's being...” Rachel waved her hand in the air, as if she could grab the word that she did not wish to say. Quinn stood up straight. Usually, Rachel had a word for everything, a paragraph really.

“What is the oaf doing now?” Quinn asked. 

Rachel looked at her watch and shifted on her feet. “Nothing, just being him, I promise.”

“And us are you unhappy with us?” Quinn raised an eyebrow, but Rachel wouldn't look at her. “Or is it something else?”

“I'm just stressed over Glee.” She avoided the first question.

“What's wrong with Glee?” As far Quinn knew, everything was fine. The last few practices were lackluster, sure but nothing seemed amiss. She was acting like their first year when she was scared of her. God, did the tiger run her off already? 

“I'm tired of fighting Mercedes over solos, when clearly she knows I'm better than her,” Rachel said. She held her books tight her chest. “I've got class across the school, I'll see you at play practice, yes?” Without another word, Rachel walked off, leaving Quinn standing next to an unlocked locker. 

Sighing, she closed up and locked it so her not-girlfriend would not panic about her forgetful nature. She rested her forehead on the locker for a second. Trying to date girls was more difficult than Santana or Brittany ever lead her believe. Being one, she thought she could understand what they were going through, but clearly, Rachel remained a mystery to her.

“What's shaking, Lucy the Tiger?” Santana said. 

“Rachel is acting...” Quinn trailed off, she did not want to sound whiny, it would not go well for her in front of the girl. 

“Distant? Awkward? Scared?” Santana replied. “Rachel?”

“Yeah, I do not know, it is just,” Quinn tried to speak, but the fact that Rachel now did not want to spend time with her scared her. Nine days and her life changed so drastically, from expecting Rachel to never be part of her life again to having the diva be a center of it. Not the only one, but a major part of her life that it was difficult to think. “Did I do something wrong? Is this about-”

“Aww,” Brittany said, she wrapped the tigress in a hug from behind “It's not about Friday, don't worry kay?”

“You sure?” 

Brittany nodded and let go, “It's Glee and the play. Mercedes is being a diva in both, demanding so much and not really showing that she deserves it, only that she desires it, and Rachel feels that she needs to diva back, so they are fighting over solos in Glee.” There were moments that Quinn thanked the lord Brittany was her best friend; she had more insight into people than anyone, and always knew exactly what to say.

“I know about that,” Quinn replied. “It feels like something more and-”

“It's nothing, but that shit,” Santana said. “She's freaking out about college and stuff, and since we discouraged her from running against Kurt, she's going nuts with the last things she has. And she won't express it because she's Rachel fucking Berry and can handle anything and everything.”

Quinn nodded. She had not been around much, but at least had seen what Rachel had been doing. “Girl's focus is all laser point and shit on herself, which would be fine and everything, if it weren't for fucking everyone else.”

“Want me to talk to her?”

Brittany shook her head. “Nope, Tana will.” Santana was probably happy that she stood behind her girlfriend at the moment given how quickly the Latina turned pale. Quinn did not think that she could get that white. 

“Britts, I don't think-”

“As Rachel's bff, you need to step up and take charge of this,” Brittany said. “Just like I do with Quinn. Anything from her will be tainted by their history and relationship-”

“Not-relationship,” Quinn added.

“You know that whole mess is fucked up,” Santana said. “Both of you want to fuck each other raw and yet...” She stepped up and Brittany wrapped an arm around her. It was weird seeing Santana act so, demure and gentle. The thought was down right scary. 

“We are going at Rachel's pace,” Quinn said. “Especially after Friday.”

Santana nodded. “Feeling guilty?”

“A little, well, a great deal actually, and Rachel is so distant right now, which worries me,” Quinn said. “I am not sure were we stand. She did not talk much with me this weekend after that and backed off on the texting.”

“Sexting you mean,” Santana said. Quinn blushed and nodded. “Finally breaking that exterior huh? Good for you. If someone had to do it, it would be Berry.”

She sighed. While it was understandable that Rachel would be distracted, and Quinn figured if she ever wanted to remain and make the relationship work she would have to get used to it, she did not like it. Just more than a hello and goodbye would be nice, responses to her texts or phone calls, but Quinn understood that Rachel was busy and devoted. Maybe she just wanted it to be towards her. “I'll deal with Hobbs, kay? Don't worry your hot ass off, Q.”

Quinn nodded, said goodbye, and walked to her class. She still felt like something was wrong, and Santana and Brittany really did not assure her of anything. Like many things in her life, it was probably her fault and there was nothing she could do to fix it. One chance and she blew it within a week. 

School was going to be terrible this week, she knew it.

******

November 11th:

Rachel walked the hallways with a purpose. Glee practice went terribly and tonight she had the play, plus dance lessons where her teacher was calling her out on being distracted, which she wasn't, she just had a lot on her mind at the moment given school and homework and Glee and the play. Everything was piling up. 

At home, when she got back from lessons and practice, it would be almost eight and she was too exhausted to deal with anyone. She just wanted to finish her homework and then sleep. Every day started early and she needed to keep up because this is what Broadway would be like. Nothing, she told herself in the mirror every night as she went about her nightly beauty regiment, was more important than that. Nothing could compare to her life-long dream.

Someone grabbed her and pulled her into the bathroom with enough force that she nearly fell over. Before she could say anything, the door was locked. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help,” Santana said. Rachel turned around and glared at the Latina. She was leaning on the door, looking smug. “That diva look isn't going to solve this.”

“Solve what?” Rachel asked. “Everything is fine.”

“Glee sucks, doesn't it?”

“Of course, Mercedes is demanding more and more solos and complaining how much better she is than me. Hell everyone seems to be against the fact that Mr. Schuester decided that it would be for the best if Finn and I, as the stars of the Glee-”

“I'm going to stop you right there, Hobbs,” Santana replied. “Do you have any idea why we're so upset? As captain, do you even know your squad.”

“What are you talking about?” Santana stepped forward, and the girl, no woman, in front of her was no longer Santana, her supposed best friend though that had yet to be proven really, but rather Santana, current head cheerio and second under Quinn Fabray. “And how dare you assume that I do not know anything about show choir. I'll have you know that-”

“Cut the crap Berry,” Santana said. “No one is fucking arguing you with your knowledge of music and Broadway and all that shit. What we're tired of is our captain not being a fucking leader and doing her job.” Rachel walked backwards until she was against the wall, but the Cheerio kept coming.

“I have contributed-”

Santana touched her sternum with just a finger, glaring down at Rachel. “To your own fucking success. Not once have you done what is best for the squad.

“You've been to the football games, right when Quinn was in charge? I've seen you at our practices sometimes, stalking her?” Rachel opened her mouth but Santana shook her head. “No talking, just nod yes or no.”

Rachel nodded.

“How many times was Quinn front and center?” That was an unfair question which she could not answer with a single yes or no. “Can you even remember? No, you can't. Of the forty five games Quinn participated in, and twenty nine competitions we've had, she was the star once. But she was always our captain.

“There was never a fucking doubt about that, Hobbs. No one questioned her commit or knowledge or skill in gymnastics and choreography, ever.” Quinn knew about choreography? “No one dared question her when she called us out on being sloppy and unprepared. And no one ever fucking questioned her about who was going to be the focus, and it was always showcasing their best qualities. Brittany led the dancers because Quinn knew how to use her body like no other person; I cheered in front because Quinn knew I could be the loudest and strongest voice on the field. Sue maybe be our coach, who taught us everything we needed to know, but Quinn demanded that we do it. Both demanded our best, and Quinn ensured that we were.

“Why do think we were so successful for three years? When Sue kicked her off the squad, everything fell apart. We were terrible until Quinn showed up one day that Sue was absent and got us going again. Got the squad back on track and being the best we could, even when she was struggling with the pregnancy, in case you didn't know, was not easy for her in any way, she was there helping us at the cost of her own dignity and pride. Hate her for what she did to you, and I know you do, even though you care about her now, but she united us and held us together better than anyone could. Do you even fucking understand why I'm telling you this?” 

Rachel shook her head. Santana was inches from her face, glaring at her now. The HBIC was present and she was not scared, she couldn't be. 

“Because you are not a fucking leader. You are not a captain.”

“How dare-”

“How dare I? How dare I?” She raised her voice, and Rachel hoped someone heard it to come and save her. Where was Quinn? “How dare you make the show only about Rachel Berry? How dare you focus solely on your skill, your qualities, your gift and never once offer to help a single one of us better ourselves. Schue may have gotten us together, but you are pushing us apart. 

“Mercedes is a fucking bitch of a diva, and you can never compete with her on that. That's because she is so arrogant and hateful that nothing else matters to her, except herself. You need to be better than that. You should be better than that.” Rachel leaned forward a bit, trying to gain a bit of power back, but Santana didn't move. 

“I am-”

“Acting like a spoiled brat. Don't give me that bullshit that you are better than us, because we know. And instead of shoving it into our face, you should be helping others with your talent, making the people around you better. We may be stuck in this town, but you don't have to fucking remind us every day of our miserable lives.” There were tears in Santana's eyes. Why was... oh Barbara. “We may not be you, but we still want to shine every once in a while. For some of us, this may be our only chance and instead of making sure we all get it, showing us how to come close to what you do, you mock us with your talent. You force us to constantly be your backup, as if the world revolves around you.

“So don't fucking tell me that you're our captain. Not once have you stepped aside willingly for others, to let them have the spot light because you knew one day it'd be yours. Moreso if it never happened. Not once had you come any of us and offered guidance and tutoring on our roles and sounds, instead just berating us because we weren't fucking perfect on the Rachel Berry scale of singing, which has two fucking settings: shit and Rachel Berry. If you aren't the latter, you're fucked and stuck with being the former. You're Diana Ross and you're fucking leaving us to be the Supremes. We're suppose to be the New Directions, not the God damn Rachel Fucking Berry show and her worthless peons.”

She didn't cry and her voice never rose above her normal level, and maybe that was the worst part. Rachel understood pain, she suffered through taunts and leers and slushies, but this was different. This was acceptance that it was impossible to better, impossible to escape the world you were born into and the desolation of that fact. “Oh Barbara, I'm so-”

“Don't you dare,” Santana said. She stepped back, and Rachel watched as she fought back the tears, refusing to let any other emotion show. “Don't you fucking dare, Manhands, you are not allowed to feel sorry for us. You are certainly not allowed to fucking pity us. We don't want it.” What she didn't say was herself. That Rachel was not allowed to pity her, specifically. “Not after what we did to you. We made you're life hell, and this is how you returned it and that's fine. But it's time you fixed it. You forgave us because we changed, willingly so, and proved it day after day. It's your fucking turn.”

Rachel nodded and stepped forward following the Latina. This time she backed up and she chased her, until the Latina was against the door. “Okay,” Rachel said, and hugged a fighting Santana. “You'll get free, I promise. I won't let you be stuck here.” 

“I said-”

“I know what you said,” Rachel replied. She moved Santana's head down to her shoulder and felt as arms wrapped around her back and pulling her closer. “This is not pity, this is not me trying to make myself feel better. I swear. This is me trying to act like the best friend you want, that I want to be.” 

Santana was silent, but her shoulders hitched up and down. Rachel felt something wet on her shoulder, but ignored it. She didn't say anything, just held the Latina close and gentled caressed her back. “I'll fix it.”

“Kay.” The conversation was over and done with, and Rachel learned enough about Santana not to bring up the emotional break down or the tears. Santana stepped back and wiped away her tears. Rachel turned away, giving her time to ready herself.

“What brought this on?” Rachel asked. She moved over to the mirror and tried to straight her cloths and hair. 

“Huh?” 

“Someone brought this up, and you wouldn't talk to me like this unless...” Rachel said. “Oh.”

“She's hurting, but understands why you've been avoiding her.” 

“I haven't been avoiding Quinn, I've been-”

“Too busy for a text?” Santana stepped up next to the girl.

“Oh.”

“She knows she did you wrong last week, and wants to make it right,” Santana replied. “But you've been so focused on you, your crazy shit with the play and Glee and college, that she thinks she really fucked up and freaked out and you're trying to break-up with-”

“No,” Rachel turned and looked at her. “Never.”

“You're treating her like it.”

“I didn't...”

“A captain should take care of her subordinates, and should make sure each knows they are important and wanted. A girlfriend, even if you're just not-girlfriends, which is fucking hilarious, should make sure that their partner is cherished and wanted, especially so. Finn was a terrible first boyfriend, never taught you what you should know, even if you would be acting by his poor excuse for an example. It's okay, Auntie Snix can and will.” Rachel blushed and looked back in the mirror.

“She never said anything,” Rachel said softly, looking down at the sink. Her not-girlfriend had never mentioned how difficult she made Glee for the rest of them, how much her divaness was hurting them. 

“It wasn't her place,” Santana replied. “How would you have reacted had she come up to you and said that stuff. She couldn't be as direct and angry as I was, and certainly never wants to hurt you again, Hobbs. No matter what you do to her, how much you hurt her, she'll try her hardest to never hurt you at all. She... cares about you greatly.”

“You always pause when you say that.” Rachel said. “Why don't you just say love?” She turned and clapped in excitement. “She loves me? Oh Barbara, this is wonderful and -” 

“Because love takes time and commitment and energy from two parties, not just one crushing on the other. Maybe you'll get there, I hope you do,” Santana said. “But it takes two, Hobbs, and you need to be in this with her, help her when she needs it, and let her help you when you do.”

“Okay,” Rachel said.

“Now, I'm missing lunch and they have curly fries, and I wants them,” Santana said. “Just remember: A captain takes charge and does what is necessary for the good of the group, leads by example. It'll be difficult, but in the end, you'll end up happier and probably more friends.”

More friends(FRIENDS!)? Rachel barely knew what to do with three. More would be wonderful. “I will.” Santana washed her hands in silence, giving Rachel time apparently. Or she was just done with the conversation.

The majority of it, and the most important parts would have to be dissected and detailed later, when she was alone in bed. It would be difficult; almost impossible too, but Santana had told her this not to break, like she would have once, but rather to make her better. It hurt; it hurt a lot and she wanted to cry, but it took more for Santana to give her that insight then it did for Rachel to hear it. “Santana?” She barely spoke above a whisper, eyes remaining on the mirror. 

The Latina started to walk out. “Hmmm?”

“Thank you.” 

******

November 12th:

Rachel hadn't been able to talk to Quinn yet. Her not-girlfriend had avoided her the rest of the day, and wasn't answering texts or calls. She knew she was pushing her, but Rachel wanted to fix what she caused. She needed to. It wasn't fair to Quinn, everything that happened, and she needed her not-girlfriend to know exactly what she felt.

Morning came, and no calls or texts, leaving Rachel rather morose and disappointed. But she carried on. Quinn didn't arrive at her locker, same as the day before, she didn't appear in the hallway with a shy wave, or anything .Rachel couldn't find her, and it was annoying that her not-girlfriend was avoiding her, while understandable. 

Brittany was the one who mentioned at lunch that Quinn had decided to work through it one of the few art studios in peace. She had a free period, so that meant almost an hour and half of alone time. Rachel was happy that she had a similar schedule, but usually they left each other to work on what they wanted to, or rather, Quinn let Rachel be a diva and practice incessantly. 

Santana was right. Rachel's nightly reflection was rather degrading and hurtful towards herself, and though she would never admit it to the cheerio, she was right. Rachel was a selfish bitch and had originally wanted the title of Glee captain for the prestige and honor of it. She had forced herself into center stage, to showcase why she would leave this horrible town, but never tried to help anyone else, to let them fulfill their dreams and desires. It was about Rachel Berry, and she felt kinda horrible about it. Only kinda because Mercedes was a bitch before this and nothing had really changed, and she doubt it would. 

In terms of Quinn, she was avoiding her, but not for the reasons the girl thought. It wasn't frightening how aggressive the tiger-side of Quinn was; Rachel was frightened by her own response. She gave in so completely and utterly, letting her not-girlfriend call her degrading names and she knew had it continued, pain would have followed. That was not the type of relationship she thought she wanted. Rachel enjoyed being the top, and controlling Quinn beneath her. It felt special since the blonde was hers to take care and cherish and protect. But maybe it was okay that she was also controlled and protected. Now that she knew about the tiger's lust, Rachel would be better prepared, mentally and physically, to help her not-girlfriend.

She found Quinn in an art-studio room, door closed and lights turned off. She was on her back, sleeping. Apparently, she had decided the pseudo-leather jacket would make a great pillow and balled it up beneath her head. The black shirt rode up slightly, exposing abs that Rachel would fondly call herself. Tight, black jeans again.

Quinn was a deep sleeper. Rachel discovered it when she slept over two Sundays ago. Last time, it took pushing the blonde out of bed to wake her up. Even then, it took a few moments for her to realize what was going on. Apparently, bacon does a better job, Quinn said, but that was too cruel to pigs. 

Rachel locked the door and dropped her bag and books by the entrance. Practice would come later. They were alone in the school and, most importantly, in a private place. She smiled as she toed off her flats, removed some clothing to be comfortable, and walked over to Quinn. She stood over her not-girlfriend, smiling down at her. She didn't snore, which was disappointing, and looked as perfect asleep as she did awake, which was frustrating, because even when Quinn was begging under her hips, she still looked so beautiful it neared frightening levels.

They were alone and in a private place, and she owed Quinn for all the trouble she caused between them. She knelt down right next to her hip, and Rachel slowly ran her fingers up and down Quinn's belly. She moaned and frowned in her sleep, her arms moving to cover her face. “Noooooo,” she said, and tried to roll away, but Rachel stopped her movement.

“Hey,” she said, and Quinn removed one arm from her face, looking around for the voice. She sat up slightly and smiled at Rachel in front of her, her hand continuing to drift up and down her belly. The abs felt so firm and stiff, she hadn't really explored Quinn's body and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to. 

“Hey,” Quinn said, drawing her word out and trying to rub away the sleep that lingered in her. 

“Don't get up, kitty,” Rachel said. 

“Rae, we are not in private.”

Rachel smiled down at Quinn, her other hand starting to play with Quinn's belt. “The door is locked, no one knows we're here right?” The tigress just nodded. “The teacher's gone for the day?” Another nod. “And the lights are off, so no one will notice that you and I are here. So we are in a private place, no?” 

Quinn didn't move as Rachel flicked her belt undone. “Now, kitty, use your words. Are we or are we not in a private place?”

She kept her mouth closed, though her eyes never moved from Rachel. Good, at least she was watching. It was for the best that she wore a skirt today, this one dark blue and a bit longer than her previous skirt. 

“Yes, we are.” 

Rachel slapped lightly against her abs. “Speak properly, kitty, remember what I told you?” Quinn nodded. “So do it.

“Yes, we're in a private place.” Quinn moaned as the button of her pants were undone and the zipper pushed down. 

“Don't transform,” Rachel said. 

Quinn leaned up on her elbows. “Why not?”

“Because,” Rachel said. “As much as fun as I have with that side of you, I care about this side too. Plus I just want to play with your pussy a little bit, maybe let you play with mine.”

“I still say we're in public,” Quinn said.

“Lean back down kitty, and let me get to work.” She gave Rachel one last glare before laying back down. Rachel smiled and opened Quinn's pants up as much as she could. “Commando? Oh, this is just awesome. And you have hair. Why do you have hair now? It was cleanly shaved before.”

Quinn just stared at the ceiling. She was being ignored. That would not do. “Here's what I want, Quinn,” Rachel said. Quinn sat up fully, though she didn't remove her hand from her pants. “I want to talk to you like I should have this week. I want to talk about somethings that I've done wrong and want to make it up to you. I want to do this. I want to have a conversation. But that requires you talking.”

“And your hand down my pants?” Quin asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Think of it as motivation, if you stop talking, I stop doing this.” She slide her hand further down until her finger tips found Quinn's clit, for a girl who grew a penis almost at will, Rachel was figuring that it was bit a bit larger than normal, but Quinn's was slightly smaller than her own. It was an awkward angle for her hand, so Rachel slid up and Quinn braced her legs, still looking at her. 

The angle on her hand relaxed, she pushed down a bit further, until her fingers started to play. She slid up and down Quinn's lit, occasionally dipping it to her pussy, but just barely. Enough to keep Quinn interested. “Rae,” she bucked her hips slightly, trying to slide the hand further down. “If you stop talking, I'll stop playing with you. In fact, hips up, kitty.” Quinn arched her back and Rachel pushed her jeans down until she had very easy access to Quinn's pussy. Much better.

In doing so, she had forgotten about Quinn's hand which found its way under her skirt and near her bare pussy. “Oh,” Quinn said, “What happened to yours?”

“I figured I didn't want to ruin them given how wet I got last time, kitty,” Rachel smirked, and gasped as two cold fingers touched her lips. 

“If you start talking too much, I'll stop,” Quinn said, smiling.

“Naughty kitty,” Rachel smirked back, slowly stroking Quinn now, while the blonde pushed hers up into Rachel's pussy, her thumb finding her clit and pressing it gentle, not enough for her desires, but just enough so Rachel was aware. 

“What,” Quin asked, breathing in deeply as Rachel reached out with her other hand and pushed up her shirt, and Quinn's breasts, god how did they get- “Do you want to talk about?”

“For starters,” Rachel said, the fingers in her pussy slowing down, but at least were moving. Her own stopped as she looked down at her not-girlfriend. “I'm sorry.” 

“Why, oh god Rae,” Quinn asked, biting her lip as Rachel circled her clit before returned to fuck her pussy again. “Why are you sorry? You didn't-”

“Of course, mmm,” Rachel said, trying to follow Quinn's fingers as she stopped moving, but the blonde would have just stopped. “I do; I treated you horrible, part of it is my fault, mainly because I'm scared.”

“Of me?” Quinn asked and started twist her hips, trying to get more pressure, but Rachel seemed to have better control, and just continued at a sedate pace. “I scared you, Rae? Oh god, I swear I never wanted that and-” She leaned down to kiss her on the lips.

They hadn't really kissed before, really really kiss, like a couple should. Sure they played with each other, but kissing was never part of it. Her nose bumped Quinn's for a second, and she flashed a smile, looking down at her lips before turning her head slightly and continuing down. Her fingers continued thrusting, though Quinn's stopped, probably in shock. It was okay, she liked the feeling that Quinn was in her, even if the girl was paralyzed from shock and wasn't moving for the moment. 

Rachel pressed down; her lips glided over Quinn's as they tried to overlap, but her bottom lip slipped into Quinn's mouth. She took hold of it and bite softly and Rachel pushed a bit harder on Quinn's pussy and clit, her forefinger and middle reaching the last knuckle. She curled her hand and Quinn arched into her mouth, pulling her lip with her. 

Quinn let go when Rachel took a nipple in her hand, rolling it around and pulling on it. “Please,” She whispered. She felt the breathe on her lips, a smile crossing her lips as her kitty continued to move with her. Quinn's eyes were half-closed, and Rachel watched as they twisted about under the lids, trying to find something to focus on. She reached up and wrapped a hand in the diva's hard, tightening and pulling her back down for a kiss.

Their teeth bounced slightly, though Rachel didn't mind as continued the movement, tracing Quinn's teeth with her tongue before biting down on her lip, harder than the blonde had. Another thrust and a curl of her fingers, Quinn moaned into. “Good kitty,” her words danced on Quinn's lips. 

She shifted her body so she was almost laying on Quinn, though the blonde had yet to remove her fingers, sliding her hand to her ass, pulling her up closer so their breasts were right next to hers. Rachel pulled her hands away, switching them so she could get a bitter grip on her not-girlfriend's pussy and soft breasts. 

Quinn pulled back and Rachel rested her forehead on hers, breathing in deeply her scene. “You taste like berries,” She said to the girl underneath her. Quinn laughed, and the vibrations shook her breasts and Rachel's. 

She cast her eyes down, caught notice of her breasts interlocked with Quinn's. Rachel never compared them before. She knew she did not have large breasts, but Quinn's looked softer, smaller, rosy, so much paler compared to her lightly color skin. Rachel pressed down on Quinn, and cupped her cheek. 

Quinn let go of her hair; her hand grazing her skin as it moved down her neck light touches, continuing down her back to her shirt and disappearing underneath it. Rachel gasped as Quinn's hand rested just below her bra. She looked back up and saw only very small pale green rings around circular voids.

Black holes are just extremely dense stars that suck other matter into it. Rachel Berry was a star and she felt herself being pulled further into Quinn, and she was okay with that. “I was scared of myself, Quinn,” She whispered and kissed her nose. “I was so scared of just how much I got lost in you. You, of all people. You changed for me, making yourself better, and I was scared because how could I do the same for you with all that I am.” She kissed her chin.

“I am short, Quinn, and despite my tone body, I have a tendency to look like a child if I don't show off how much I am not one. I know I'm arrogant, though I've been trying to curb that,” Rachel said, her fingers never stopping. Quinn's breathe was slowly going faster and faster. “I push people around, bossing them to do it my way, because I know better. It is the Berry way, or nothing else. I make the world center around me. And these are just the flaws you know about.”

“You are-”

“Words, kitty,” Rachel smirked, her lips just above Quinn's.

“You're, fuck Rae, please just,” Quinn said, arching her hips and pressing forward as much as she could with another person on top of her. “You're perfect the way you are, I don't-”

“No, Quinn,” Rachel said, “You see me though rose-tinted glasses, and while you accept all my flaws and don't see them as such does not mean they are not there. I need to fix that. And you taught me that.”

“I did?”

Rachel licked Quinn's lips, her tongue trailing up to the tip of her nose. Despite her hand being engaged in Quinn's pussy, she didn't feel the need to be serious too much. “You taught me that I had to change if I wanted to be make someone happy. The divaness of me, the demand for attention and applause, I'm gonna work on curbing it.”

“Why,” Quinn gasped as Rachel squeezed a nipple harder than she originally wanted, but it felt so wonderful between her fingers, and the smile on Quinn's face said maybe it was just hard enough. “Why do you-”

“If I don't, Quinn,” Rachel replied, “If I don't do this, I will push you away as I let myself get consumed by my desires to reach stardom. And...” She kissed softly, her lips barely touching. The only sound Rachel was Quinn's sharp breathes from her nose, but she didn't saw anything or push any harder than trying to get off. Though Rachel slowed down a bit, her fingers cramping a little bit. Lesbian foreplay second, or was it third, base was difficult. She didn't know how Quinn held out as long as she did.“I don't want that. It's the last thing I want.”

“Please , Rae,” Quinn said. “I'm so close.”

“I know, kitty,” Rachel said, “just a little more and I'll make you feel wonderful.” She cupped the breast, slowed her hand down and placed her head on her shoulder. “I was scared because of how much I want this, Quinn, of how much I need this. I thought Broadway was going to be my life, but you, with your craziness and hot as fuck tiger cock that is just for me, I can't simply walk away. You are part of my life, Quinn, and I refuse to let that part slip from my fingers.”

“What do... God Rae, please I just want to-”

“Have you not cum since Sunday?” Quinn shook her head. “Do you masturbate?” Another shake. “How come?” A shrug. “Use your words, kitty, or I'll stop.”

“I don't know how,” Quinn said, turning her head. Rachel let go of the breast, slide her hand out of Quinn's pussy much to her displeasure and rolled so she was laying fully on top of the tigress. “I never did before and...”

“Never be ashamed in front of me regarding who you were,” Rachel said, taking her head into her hands, forcing Quinn to look her in the eyes. “So you've been horny since Sunday then, right?” Quinn nodded. “Then you need to come to me for this until you learn how to please yourself, alright, I'm more than happy to help you, cock or pussy, it doesn't matter.” 

Rachel sat up and straddled her hips. “I want you to relax, kitty, we're going to finish what we started that night, so come on, bring that cock of yours out.”

Quinn shuttered for a second, and pushed herself up until she was sitting straight with Rachel's pussy right above hers. “Rae, I don't-”

“We have about ten minutes left and that is more than enough time for you to spray all that wonderful cum that has never escaped your body. So hop to it and give me my cock.”

“Your's,” Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Rachel just returned with a million watt smile. “Of course mine, who else would be using it. You aren’t yet. So I think its best that we just trust me with it. So bring it. Accept whatever you need to do and get it out here so I can make it feel better.

She watched as soft glows over her body began, and slowly her ears slide up tot he top of her head, where little tiger, orange and black, stuck out of her blonde hair. A tail slithered out between her legs, well Quinn's legs, and danced just under her ass, which felt kinda nice, if she really thought about it. A little while later, Rachel felt the cock slowly grow, pressing up against her pussy and grazing her clit as she moved so it could finish growing. 

“We're not going to fuck yet, kitty,” Rachel said, “That'll be saved for when we can do it in your bed. For now though.” She reached down between their legs and took hold of it. “We're finishing it right here. You're going to cum right against my pussy and then rub it in like a lotion. And I’m gonna walk around all day with it on me, a mark that I am yours for anyone to know. Are you okay? I don't know what normal relationship are for weretigers, given the attack hundreds of years ago, but if there are other animals, then they need to know that you have chosen me. That you will protect me and care for me, right?” She reached between their legs and grabbed Quinn's cock with one hand, and took her other one and placed it against her pussy.

Having a cock in her hand was so strange. While Quinn was abnormally warm, which made it easier for them to get partial naked in a freezing school, with the cock it was a bit more evident. Rachel didn't understand how something could be so hard and soft at the same time. And she knew she had small hands, but when she wrapped her hand around the cock, she had more than enough room for two, maybe more. The thought of suck a large dick in her hand, being hers to play with and eventually fuck, made her smile. “If you make me come, kitty,” Rachel said. “Before you do, I'll make it worth your wild.” 

Quinn's fingers grew slightly warmer as the blonde started to rub her pussy lips. Rachel moaned and moved her hand up and down, like she had read and seen on the interwebs. Quinn grabbed Rachel by the hair, tightened it in her grip and pulled her flush against her body. She almost lost her grip, but held on and didn't stop moving, and neither did Quinn's as one, then two slid into her easily, which she expected because of how wet she was. Probably would need a towel. 

“Oh, Barbara,” Rachel said. Quinn curled her fingers and pressed down on her clit, then started to move her thumb around, shifting it back and forth, up and down. Her hand slowly moved, and Rachel could almost feel the entirety of the fingers in her, as she pussy clamped down on it. 

“I don't like it when you say another woman's name, Rae,” Quinn growled, and she felt her breasts quake from the vibrations in Quinn's chest. 

“Oh...,” she repeated as her not-girlfriend, she really, really, really, really, oh fuck. 

Quinn started to slowly twist her hand around, curling her fingers slightly and pressing up against what Rachel could only assume was her g-spot, while her thumb continued to press and flick and move her clit and oh fuck. She really needed a new label for them. The other fingers touched her pussy lips, sliding up and down as the hand moved, touching them just enough to not leave them alone. “Faster, please.”

“You first,” Quinn said. She slowed down a bit, and Rachel squeezed Quinn's cock at the demand and action. 

“No kitty,” Rachel said. “You are mine, don't forget that.” Quinn pouted against Rachel's lips but started back up again. “Stop spinning your fucking hand and just fuck me.” 

“Yes, Rae,” Quinn replied, and started to do as she was told, pushing in much harder than before, but Rachel felt it. Starting at top of her hips and grew warmer and warmer. She quickened her hand in time with Quinn's now. Her other hand grabbed hold of Quinn's shoulder and held herself up, trying to keep pace. But her hand slipped off. Quinn didn't stop though.

Pressure was starting to build, slowly, growing in her as she felt warmer and hotter, and “Fuck,” she said, leaning forward against Quinn's head. Her not-girlfriend just smiled and didn't stop. She kissed her lightly, pulling away, but Rachel wrapped a hand around her neck and kissed harder back, trying to fuse her lips to Quinn's. 

Her thighs tightened, and she slowly felt the urge to use the restroom, feeling heat grow and build within her pussy as she squeezed against the fingers in her as Quinn traced along her pussy lips, her thumb still playing with her clit. “Please, a bit,” Rachel murmured, her lips barely away from Quinn's. Everything was so warm, her breathe, Rachel couldn't breathe it was harder and harder to take in, she was hyperventilating as Quinn's hand moved faster and harder in her, curling her fingers tightly and relaxing them on each motion, her stomach tightening and the heat traveled up her spine, sending waves to her body, it was too much, too much, too much-

Rachel arched back, her toes curling and her knees squeezing hard against Quinn's thighs, refusing to let go. Her pussy clinched and tightened around the fingers. She pulled her not-girlfriend even closer, placing her head on her shoulder and just trying to fuse them together. She stopped breathing as her stomach shook and her nipples hurt so much but she wouldn't trade it for anything. 

A hand rubbed circles on her back, under her sweater and shirt. Her thigh were cold, and something was hanging on her calves. “Rae?” She hugged the body holding her tightly, resting her head on its should

“Hmm?” Rachel said, she wanted to pass out and just be held. 

“Not to sound horrible or anything,” Quinn said. Whatever was real slowly came back to her, drifting in. 

Rachel picked her head up and looked down. Between their legs stood a cock staring back up at her. She pulled away, but looked back at Quinn. “I owe you, don't I?”

“We'll be late to class,” Quinn replied. “It's fine, I'll-”

Rachel kissed her and pushed her down again. “No, I'll take care of it, like I promised kitty, just relax and let me help you.” She kissed her neck and sternum, moving down her body. Rachel always lived up to her word, and she did promise Quinn would have what she wanted, no needed. Never say that Rachel Berry isn't a giver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAH! Graduate School is a bitch sometimes. I apologize about being late. No I haven't forgotten this story; I have completed two chapters after this, and they are currently being beta'ed. I actually found something of a plot in chapter 8, so yay, not just smut that is taking forever to score a home run. 
> 
> So my apologizes, my dear readers, for being so late. I'll have something posted quickly up soon after this, just to make sure I get back on some what of a schedule. Quick question: I can easily make this Faberrittana story. Should I or just keep it two couples?
> 
> Anyways, I own's nothing from Glee, sadly, because then I wouldn't have forced Quinn Fabray off the show or to the side in really crappy plots. Please Read and Review. As always, thanks to my beta, lisaand. 
> 
> Because I can,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk (WeOffendedShadows)


	7. Chapter 7

November 13th:

A day later and Quinn was still having difficulty wiping the grin off of her face. Despite Santana determined to make her face a permanent shade of red, she could not lose the good mood. 

Rachel Berry, perfect, prim Rachel Berry had given her fellatio. Granted, this was the same girl who told the celibacy club that girls wanted sex just as much as boys, and she proved it. They reached third base, or she did, according to Rachel, and Quinn enjoyed it greatly. It was a nice reward.

After Rachel went down on her, they stayed in the art studio, talking, and missing thirty minutes of their next period, but Quinn was okay with that. They talked about their relationship, though Rachel had refused to move out of her lap, which made her concentration waiver a bit. Quinn worried, unnecessarily to Rachel, that they were moving too fast, already being more sexually active than she or her was ever before, ignoring the drunk night with Puck. For Rachel, she felt this was the natural progression of their, emphasis on the relationship between the two of them, feelings towards each other. Rachel's need for physical contact and Quinn's tiger-self just encouraged them to follow through and be as close as possible. But she did not feel that the pace was too much. Sex, or a home run as Rachel said, was not on the books for a while, but she would not give up her private time with her kitty. 

They talked about where they thought the relationship was headed. While tigers did not necessarily mate for life, as far as Quinn's research could produce, she was a one and done. Well two and done really, but she tried to ignore her time with Puck, even though it produced Beth. Oh God, she was rambling like Rachel. 

“Baby mama,” Puck said, “I need you to taste this.” He held a spoon out in front of her. 

“What?”

“I know you're terrible at this cooking stuff,” he said, “But you can at least taste things like you promised.”

“Oh, yes,” Quinn replied. “Is there-”

“I know how much you love my meat,” Puck wiggled his eye brows. Quinn punched the jock lightly in the arm and he nearly fell over, almost into the two sophomores next to them. Both looked at the pair and turned away quickly, diverting their eyes so the HBIC/punk and self proclaimed biggest badass of McKinley did not notice that they were in their way. “Hey, watch it, hot stuff.”

Quinn was not sure if he was referring to her or the pot he had burning what was probably chili. “That does not answer my question,” she said.

“For you, always,” Puck said. Quinn glared at him before taking the wood spoon from his hand.

She was forced to take this class in order to fill a spot, so she could still be considered a full time student, having more than enough credits to graduate the previous year. It did not mean that Quinn was decent at cooking, baking, or anything involving fire. In fact, she had burnt water before. She does not like to talk about it.

Puck was in this as supposedly an easy A, though Quinn believed that was more just the excuse he gave. Out of anyone in Glee, or even the school, he was the last one who would be thought of as artistic, because there was no other word to describe how wonderful his food was. Each thing, no matter what he made, was perfect and delicious. The first day he sat next to her and they were meant to bake cookies. Quinn had burnt her after a fiasco involving flour and an egg. Puck finished his and offered her one, just to rub it in. Quinn took it as she was not envious, and after the first bite realized just how much better he was than even Rachel at making things. She demanded that he be her partner for the rest of the class, and all left overs went to her. In part, to pay her back for impregnating her. Puck just nodded and smiled at her, and handed her the plate with the rest of the peanut and chocolate cookies that she did not share with anyone because they were unworthy. No one else but her knew how fantastic Puck was, and her cookie supply depended on the secret being kept.

The chili was not hot, but created a sensation of warmth that spread throughout her body, head to toes. “I used a beef based broth this time, along with some flank steak I smuggled in, thanks be tee dubs Just slightly underdone so when I threw the pieces in the chili finished it off. Vegetables were the standard Orleans trinity and-”

“Shut up and let me enjoy this Puck,” Quinn said through a second spoonful. 

After she went for thirds, which Puck had the audacity to cut her off, saying it needed to cook a bit more, he stared at her. “What?”

“So,” Puck said, “You and Berry, huh?”

“What are you talking about, Puck?” 

“Not that I can blame you,” he replied, “She is extremely fine if you can get past the crazy.” She tried to hold back the panic and anger: no one talked about Rachel like that, but she was not ready for this. “Don't worry, Baby Mama, I understand about keeping it on the DL. Just, you need to remove that 'I got me some' smile or everyone's gonna be asking questions and you're gonna be flustered and Santana's gonna get pissed for you-”

“I am not-”

“Quinn,” Puck said, his voice growing low and soft, “Of all the people in this school, I'm the last you should lie to.” It wasn't a threat, it wasn't even a reminder. He did not know everything about her, the tiger-self and her struggle with it. 

“I do not want to talk about,” Quinn replied.

“'s cool,” he said. “Your secret's safe with me.” He was spooning the chili into a few containers. 

“Just like your's.”

“Exactly, wait what?” Puck said. “What the fuck do you know?” Quinn smirked back at Puck as looked at her, trying to determine just what she knew, or rather, which of the things she knew. “Quinn?”

The bell rang, she grabbed two containers and stuffed them into her bag. “Quinn?” Puck repeated. “Get back here, Quinn. What do you know?” He stuffed the last of his containers in his bag and ran off, leaving the dirty pots and utensils for some freshmen to clean. 

******

Glee was boring. Granted, it had not started yet, but Quinn was sitting in the back row, trying to read through one of the many books she wanted to finish before the AP exam, waiting for Rachel to show up and, she guessed, Mr. Schue, but he did not seem that important.

“Hey chica,” Santana said, throwing her bag onto the chair next to Quinn. “Where's the hobbit?”

“As I am sure you are aware,” Quinn replied, “I am not her keeper, nor is she my responsibility, and therefore I should not keep track of her.”

“Please,” Santana said. “You're practically attached to her fucking hip. And I know you love it.” Quinn fought a blush but turned away. 

“Stop teasing her,” Brittany said, sitting down so close to her girl friend that she should have just given up her seat and sit in Santana's lap. 

“But,” Santana started. Brittany put a finger over the Latina's mouth and smiled as she did. 

“Be nice, Tana,” Brittany said. Santana hung her head and nodded.

“But seriously though,” Santana said, “ where is she, she's never late to Glee. In fact, I'm surprised she's not here practicing wowing us with her fantastic voice.”

“I honestly do not know,” Quinn said, trying to keep her eyes on her book, “She mentioned something when she stopped by the art studio I was using-”

“So hot,” Brittany said. Quinn raised her eyebrows quickly, her mouth open slightly. She felt her hands start to shake, but Brittany reached over Santana and took hold of them. “I mean the temperature, Quinn. Tana and I have had sweet lady kisses there, and we have to get naked because it's usually so warm and I don't mind, but she's-” Santana placed a hand over Brittany's mouth. She turned to her girlfriend. “Foo moch?” Santana just nodded. “Sawrry.”

She pulled her hand back. “Quinn doesn't need to know where and when we've fucked, she'd try to avoid them, and that would probably prevent her from going to class.”

Quinn closed her book, closed her eyes and tried to push the mental image, no matter how sexy and hot it was, of her friends having sex in the school. “Please, please, please tell me you did not have sex in the classrooms.”

“We didn't.”

“Actually,” Brittany added. “We're trying to get all of them, as sort of a going away-” 

“Britts.”

“Too much?” Santana nodded. “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Santana said. They paused their conversation as the rest of Glee walked in. At least one of her friends knew when it was time to stop having conversations like this. Brittany was learning, though tended to forget often enough that it could be annoying had she not been her best friend. Quinn gave up on teaching Rachel what “polite conversation” was. 

Mercedes and Kurt walked in, gossiping about whatever; Quinn learned to tone them out, even with her heighten sense of hearing. It was just white noise now. Sam was right behind them, following Mercedes with ever the devotion of a faithful dog. Mike, Artie, Blaine, and Puck walked in, talking about some video game, Tina on Mike's arm, getting angrier and angrier at some of the stupid things that Puck was saying. It took a moment for Quinn to realize that she was calling the juvenile delinquent a terrible terrible human being for insulting Zelda as much as he was. In fact, she was more in charge of that conversation than anything else. Sugar and Rory came next, talking quietly and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, Finn walked through the doors, trying to make it look like he was still important, still mattered in Glee, but Quinn knew otherwise. At least, she hoped she did. Rachel was hers; and that made her more important in Glee, she was seventy-six percent sure about that.

Mr. Schue walked in, and Quinn just heard the white noise of the Peanuts' Teachers. He was talking about some lesson they needed to learn about cooperation and working together. Part of her was worried about Rachel. Her not-girlfriend? Was that the term they were using now? She did not know and would have to have a conversation just so she knew what Rachel wished she called her, because the moniker “her mate” was a conversation for much later in their relationship. Her significant other was late, and had not informed her of where she was going to be.

Ten minutes into Glee, Rachel ran into the room and nearly fell. She held a few massive binders. Quinn would have gotten up to help her, but froze as she saw something that was new and vibrant about her. Santana must have noticed too, because she sat up straighter, smirking the entire time. Brittany clapped. The rest of the room was oblivious. 

“Mr. Schuester, if I may,” Rachel said. She put the binders down on Brad's piano and stepped forward to the center of the room. 

She took closed her eyes, took an extremely deep breathe, and started speaking, opening her eyes back up so she could look at every single member of the Gleeks. “I'm sorry.”

Those were not the words anyone was expecting. Quinn's book fell out of her hand. Mercedes and Kurt finally stopped their little side conversation and started listening to the diva, their captain. Everyone else just did not move and, maybe, did not breath. “I'm sorry that I have made some of you feel like that I do not care about you, that you and your talent is insignificant compared to mind, that this show choir was all about my dreams and wants, rather than the team's. As captain, I thought it was my duty to showcase the best talent, which at the time I believed it to be me.

“I was wrong.”

No one moved or spoke.

“I was wrong to place myself above you. It was recently pointed out to me that as a captain, I am not the star, I should be the leader. I should be making sure that everyone matters, everyone is included and everyone is rewarded for their hard work, while also promoting the betterment of the entire squad. I am so sorry that I have failed you in this regard. There is so much talent in here, and rather then helping and ensuring we bring it out and make ourselves the best team and family around here, I was selfishly focused on what I wanted, without caring whatever you brought to the table unless it was about me. I am so sorry that so many of you have felt that I was belittling you, holding you back, or even insulting you because you weren't, and you'd be right about me doing that, and it's fully in your rights to hate me because of that.

“But, as someone kindly pointed out to me, it's time for me to end that. If it's okay, as your captain, I have selected some songs that will highlight and promote the neglected members of the glee club. I was no longer sing any solos, unless absolutely necessary, and even then, I believe that you, all of you, would be a better fit than I. Instead, I want to focus my efforts not on simply preforming and showing how amazing I can be, but helping all of you be as amazing and fantastic. I hope one day, I can make up to you the hurt that I have caused you. Until then, I ask that I remain your captain to ensure we win sectionals, regional and nationals under the star power of the Glee Club, not Rachel Berry.”

“Hells yeah,” Santana whispered. 

“What the hell was that?” Mercedes practically shouted. Quinn was surprised at the other, less talented, diva's outrage. “You think you can simply waltz in here and expect any of us to just listen to you when you say that you can make us better? Who the hell do you-”

“How often do you practice dancing, Mike?” Rachel said. The club and turned to look at him. 

“Ummm,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He was not used to this type of attention, Quinn figured. “About seven hours a week. Had to cut back because my dad's pressuring me to study more.”

“Brittany, how bout you?”

The blonde cheerio smiled brightly. “About twice that, but you already know this, right Rach? We've seen each other quite a bit at the studio.” Rachel returned the smile.

“Santana,” Rachel asked, which the Latina practically jumped out of her seat. “How much time do you spend writing songs or playing your piano?”

“That was private, Hobbs,” Santana growled and nearly jumped out of her seat. Brittany's hand on her lap stopped her. 

“I know, and I'm sorry.”

“I see what you're doing.”

“I don't,” Mercedes said, “Who cares how much-”

“I play my guitar about ten hours a week when football isn't happening,” Puck said.

“I play that much or work on my videos,” Artie added. 

“Twenty hours a week,” Brad said. The club turned to him. The man had never spoken before, and if he did, it was only a word or two at a time at most. 

“We all practice and work hard to get better,” Rachel said. “Though Kurt doesn't admit it many people, and I'm sorry for revealing this-”

“It's okay,” he said. “I understand.”

“He spends about sixteen hours during the week working on his fashion designs and learning about various styles and materials all to better himself in the field he loves.” Rachel turned and stared at Mercedes. “How much do you practice? 

“I don't-”

“Currently, due to the play, I've cut down my practice time from twenty eight to thirty hours, down to about fourteen. Once the play is over and I can devote my time to the craft I love and want more than anything to be part of, I will return to my previous schedule,” Rachel did not look away, now practically glaring at the less-talented diva. “I have dance lessons, acting lessons, singing lessons, along with personal time that I take out of my day to better myself at my passion. If I wished to know about dance, I would ask Mike or Brittany, who are so far ahead of me that I can only dream I would ever be as good. Video, I'd go to Artie. Guitar and about five other instruments he doesn't speak about, it'd be Puck. If I wanted to play video games, if I had the time, and most recently, her voice as well, Tina would be the first person I'd look for, because I know she has started attending lessons with me, albeit in an entirely different genre and style.”

“Rachel is all of this-” Mr. Schue started, but Rachel was not stopping her tirade. 

“I'm telling you this, not to brag to brag or force any of you into the spot light, and for doing so, I apologize, but it is necessary to show that I am the most capable person in this room in regards to singing show choir, pop, musicals, and majority of mainstream music. You may be talented, but you have not, and probably will never put in as many hours I have. You haven't devoted your life and free time to this, despite the school's desire to bring you down and stomp on you because of your love of something. 

“So Mercedes,” Rachel asked, “how many hours do you practice in a week?”

Quinn knew the answer, the entire club knew the answer. Mercedes was rather proud of her talent and figured she did not have to practice, often bragging about it. “You are talented, but you can't rely on talent alone to get where you want to go. You have to work at it. If we want to win, we have to work. And I believe we can win without me singing, hence why I have this.” 

Rachel stepped back and grabbed the first binder, removed a stack of papers and started passing them out. She repeated the process with three other stacks of paper. When Quinn received hers, she was surprised to see staff paper filled with music notes and lyrics. A quick look at Santana's told her that the music was slightly different for her. Rachel passed out sheet music to the band. 

“I have prepared and copied the set list that I believe will allow us to win Sectionals, along with various other numbers. After that, we can return to our lessons in humanity and other things that are just as important as success, I guess.” 

“Rachel,” Mr. Schue said, “just because you are co-captain, does not give you the right to simply dictate what we are doing. I am still the teacher here and you have a co-captain to-”

“Finn's done nothing, Mr. Schue,” Puck said. “He hasn't tried to lead us or nothing. I mean, kay once, he came up with the set list or something, but that is really it. At least here, Rachel is trying to make an effort.”

“Coach always allows the captain's input and direction,” Brittany said, her eyes focused on the papers in her hand. “It makes the team better, because there is a student leading them, not just another adult who might not know their ass from a hole in the ground.” Santana snorted and the other Gleeks just stared at her. “It's not a dinosaur, sure, but a dinosaur doesn't really dance or sing, so we need someone who knows that. Rach does.” 

Quinn smiled behind her hand. “Brittany, I don't think-”

“Mr. Schuester,” Rachel said, “This is the last chance for some of us to win Nationals. It'll take more than a last minute plan and writing songs in the room and a terribly timed kiss to get us there. We need to improve ourselves and work harder than we have before. And we need to do it as a team. Look at the last page in your folders.”

Santana squealed. She actually squealed. It was the strangest sound that Quinn had ever heard and she had heard the sounds of a dying deer due to some rather strange circumstances. “What the fu-” Puck started to say, but shut his mouth quickly as Santana jumped out of her seat and hugged Rachel tightly, squeezing the girl so much that she could not move her arms and picking her up off the ground.

The two talked for a bit, with Santana swaying the diva back and forth slightly. Quinn reached down and picked up the paper that the Latina had dropped. “What's the big deal?” Finn asked. 

“Santana,” Rachel said, strained, but smiling, “If you could put me down, I'll explain to everyone why you're so not you at this moment.” Santana said something again so only Rachel heard before lowering her back to the ground. “I was completely serious when I said that I am stepping back as lead vocalist, I am also stepping forward as encouraging our own talents and skills as part of this club. It's important that everyone, and I mean everyone get a chance to shine and show off how wonderful you are. Given by the list provide with you, I have included various songs, the soloists who would excel at them, as well as recommendations for possible duets, and group numbers. What Santana is so excited about is my insistence that we utilize her song-writing capabilities to further extend our boundaries. I have also included Noah as part of that. I also have listed the songs that both Mike and Brittany will have the easiest time to create quick choreography, as well as the ones that will require more work, though they would have the final say, since while I'm pretty good at dancing, they are miles ahead of me.”

“This is all well and good,” Mr. Schue said, “But I still think-”

“This is fucking awesome,” Santana said, “That's what it is.”

“Language, Santana,” he replied. “It's fine and all, but I don't think that we should simply just have one person pick the songs.”

“I understand and can see your hesitation,” Rachel said. “And as captain, I was shown it is important to take charge, but also listen to the contributions of both my team and coach, in that order. You teach us, you guide us, but we are the ones who have to preform it. We are the ones who will be the ones on that stage, singing and dancing. We are the owns who must truly own it. This is me saying that I believe it is time we, the students, start taking more involved role in this club.” Rachel blushed slightly. “If that is okay.”

“Of course it's okay,” Puck said. “This is gonna be so f-ing awesome. Satan, when you-”

“I have not made a decision regarding this,” Mr. Schue said. Quinn glared at him. Rachel had done a fantastic job of providing not only songs recommendations, music selected individually for all preformers, as well as encouraging the skills and abilities of all the members, even the new one. “Finn, as co-captain, what do you think about this? Has Rachel discussed it all with you.”

Rachel spoke up before the quarterback could oepn his mouth. “No.”

“Why not?” Mr. Schue asked. “As this club is run by two captains because I didn't want this happening.”

“Finn,” Rachel turned to him. “Do you have any ideas or contributions that further the progress of this club?” 

The group turned to him, staring at the lanky quarterback, and for a moment, Quinn thought he was actually going to contribute something this year besides trying to dig himself out of the holes he put himself in. Granted, it was wrong to expect so much from a boy, but when does a boy grow up. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

There are moments for everyone that test them and forces them to grow up. Quinn had hers first when she was eleven and became a monster. The second time was when she was pregnant through her own doubts and fears and insecurities. She forced Rachel to grow up fast by being said monster, through tormenting the girl. Santana grew up because of her own torment by the racist bigots, like her father, and then become the protector of a girl who struggled with sanity every day and Quinn. Brittany would never grow up, which was something she was thankful for. Artie grew up when he was paralyzed. Puck should have grown up when his father left, but with no guidance and help, he became the man-child of Puck. He did grow up when Beth was born and given away; it just took time. Her other friends might be grown up as well, they just did not show it, nor give reason as to why.

But Finn had not really been tested, not been shown how to grow up. And it was okay. Quinn knew that some people should not be forced to grow up early. “No,” He said, turning away from the group. She felt sorry for the boy, and, at least somewhere in her, she knew that it was wrong to put him on the spot like that. 

“It's okay, Finn,” Rachel said, smiling at him. He looked a bit happier from it. Quinn did not like it. The tiger did not like it. “I simply figured that since I had a plan, I'd go through it. I didn't think to talk to you first. I'm sorry.” 

“It's cool,” Finn replied. The goofy smile was not a good sign. This crush on Rachel should have been over. The diva saw to it, spoke loud and clear the day after the slushie and feather experience. 

“And I encourage everyone to bring ideas,” Rachel said. “This is our club, and Mr. Schuester, as much as you lead us, we also need to lead us, so please give us that chance. At least, let's see if this works.”

Mr. Schue was silent, staring at Rachel, as though she were a puzzle. The diva was, but Quinn only knew the patterns and codes to figure it out, and she hide them well so she would be the only one who knew how. “Okay,” he said. “Can everyone have something from Rachel's preparations for next week? If everyone thinks it'll work, we'll go with her plans. Sounds good?”

There was a murmur through the group. “I appreciate the initiative, Rachel, and the sacrifice you are making in stepping aside for the greater good of the group. You're all dismissed, and have something for next Thursday, kay? Good.”

The Gleeks departed, talking animatedly about their binders and the music within them. Even the band was happy with the new songs and options they had. Quinn had yet to open the file. Rachel would tell her what she would need to know. Santana and Brittany were sitting in the back, heads close and whispering to each other. 

Quinn walked down and stood next to Rachel as she started to pack up her back and her own binders, plural, god the girl had so many. “I am going to stop by the art room, finish up a painting, you going to be fine?”

“Yep,” Rachel turned around and smiled at her, the glint of something sitting just behind her eyes. “Do you want me to join you? We can finish our conversation.”

Quinn felt her face flush, and her tiger-self growled deep within her. She wanted to pull her not-girlfriend, they really really needed to figure out a title for each other, close and sniffed her hair, inhale everything that made Rachel so wonderful and- 

“I need to go Rachel,” Quinn said.

Rachel stepped closer. “Oh, why? Is,” her voice dropped down a few octaves, “kitty feeling uncomfortable?”

“Rae,” Quinn replied. “Do not.”

“Fine.” Rachel pouted. “I'll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes,” Quinn took a step back, taking deep breathes and trying to keep the tiger-self from forcing himself out and taking the diva in the choir room. “Mom wants to have a family dinner night as often as possible, and given that I am no longer in Cheerios, she is taking it upon herself to make sure I am home as often as possible. I still wish for us to spend time together after the play next week...”

“You have to sacrifice your time with me to time with your mom,” Rachel said. “It's cool.” She just smiled. 

“I will,” Quinn said, but paused taking a deep breathe. It was not difficult, though the tiger seemed to enjoy it more than anything else, but Quinn-self preferred to keep her language as formal as possible, if nothing else that the lack of formality made her not-girlfriend happy. “I'll call you tonight, yes?”

Rachel smiled brighter and reach out, picking up her hand. Quinn looked down as the small fingers wrapped around hers. The touch was warm, the grip firm, her arm shaking slightly as though it wish it could pull her in and hold her so tight that Quinn would never escape. The girl before her, the one she had tortured with words and slushies, and sometimes outright threats, wanted to protect her. Rachel wanted to give her everything that Quinn had missed out, had never really had. She wanted to offer her more than just the physical involvement.

It was light, the grip, but Quinn could not pull her hand from it. It did not smother her the way Finn's hand liked to, or hold her so loosely that she just could slip away without a thought, like Sam's. Rachel held her like she was a kitten, something to be held close and protected, but never so lightly that it could slip away and hurt itself. 

“Be good, kay?” Rachel asked. 

Quinn squeezed back. 

“I'll talk to you tonight?” Rachel said. Another squeeze. “It doesn't have to be our standard talk, you know? It could be talk-talk. Would you prefer that?” Quinn shrugged. “Text me when you're free.”

“Sure,” Quinn said. She turned to leave but her hand was not released.

“I missed you,” Rachel said. 

Quinn looked back at the smaller diva, the girl, no, woman who had decided it was in her capability and power to forgive her worst tormentor, and further decided that she was datable material. “And I you,” Quinn replied. 

Rachel dropped her hand and gave a gentle smile before turning back to her music and binders. Quinn rushed away, Santana and Brittany following her. They did not notice Finn returning to the almost empty choir room that held one Rachel Berry.

******

November 14th 

Rachel stood at her locker, trying to decide what to bring to her next class. While the teacher had yet to actually state they would require their text books, given the test today, she was positive she could squeeze in some extra studying on the physics test. She felt prepared, but over-studying was not a real word and therefore should be ignored at all costs, as a person could only be prepared with enough preparation for any task or subject at hand; it was not paranoia, just being minded of what was to come. She was sure she had missed something from the night before, given the constant texting and then long call with Quinn; not that she really minded, mind you, and Rachel was rather proud of her ability to multi-task, giving full attention to her not-girlfriend, a moniker they must really fix soon, while at the same studying for a test that she had spent the better part of a week, with the required working around both the play and other homework as well as her previous lessons in voice and movement. She was ready to ace the test, she told her self, and nothing could stop her.

“Hey, Rach,” Finn said, standing next to her locker and looking down at her.

Rachel sighed. “I have asked you before, Finn, please don't call me by that name.”

“Why?” He asked.

“Because it is not my name, and I don't like nicknames.”

“Santana calls you it,” he responded.

“No, she calls me many things, but never 'Rach',” she said. Rachel took her book out and held it in her crossed arms in front of her; better safe than sorry. The teacher had a mean streak and would probably assign homework after the test. 

“What about Brittany?” 

“Have you ever told Brittany what she can or can't do?” Rachel said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Walk you to class? I'm headed in that direction.”

It was Quinn's job to do so, but her not-girlfriend had been caught up by a teacher concerning some stupid project that she was arguing against completing, something about not letting a misogynistic man decide what she should or shouldn't be writing about. Also, Finn's class was across the school. In the other direction. But the puppy-dog/baby face look he was pleading was enough to force her to say, “sure.”

“Great,” he said. He started walking without waiting for her.

Nothing had really changed. Rachel ran to catch up to him, while taking a faster pace to keep up with his longer strides. “Is there a reason you wished to walk me to class?” She asked.

“I had a question.”

“That's good.”

“It was about what I asked you yesterday,” he continued, ignoring the blatant sarcasm she had applied to her words. Maybe it wasn't enough. She'd have to check with Santana about what the appropriate amount of displeasure and dislike was needed to pull off her tone. 

“As I have stated to you before, Finn,” Rachel said, “I have no time at the moment to tutor you solely. Even after the play, I do have my own lessons to attend.”

“C'mon, Rach,” Finn said. She glared at him. “I mean Rachel, I just need a little help. You said that you wanted to be friends right?”

“I did,” she replied. “But I also said that I wanted to return to that friendship slowly, it has only been a month-”

“Right, it's been a month, we could just hang out and stuff, go see movies and everything, play video games at my place,” Finn said.

“You mean the things you wanted to do while we were dating, yes?” Rachel asked. 

“Well sure, but-”

“Finn, just because we are 'friends,'” She made the quotation marks in the air so hopefully he understood her sarcasm associated with the word. Rachel doubted that. “Does not automatically entitle you to my time. I said I would make an effort for you and the rest of glee, but it would be for the betterment of the entire club to do group sessions. Singers learn better with people, practice better by themselves.”

“But I just want to hang out,” Finn repeated.

“Maybe one day,” Rachel said. She stopped in front of a classroom. “But not today. I don't feel comfortable with you yet Finn.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I still don't understand why we broke up. I mean, I forgive you and everything, but-”

“You forgive me?” Rachel hated raising her voice, it was terrible for her vocal chords and given the play was approaching, this wasn't the satisfactory method of showing her displeasure, but it just happened. “You forgive me, for dumping you?”

“Of course, I mean,” Finn said, “Santana probably put you up to it to-”

“What lies you spreading now Finnocence?” Santana and Brittany were walking past, holding pinks, looking perfect in their cheerios uniforms. “I'll see you in class, Britt.”

“Kay,” The blonde Cheerio walked away, well skipped would have been a better term, but most people couldn't do it as naturally or gracefully as Brittany did, and in such a manner that made it seem like it was just her normal walk, so maybe walk was the correct verb. 

“I know it was you who told Rach-”

“Rachel,” Rachel said, sighing. 

“Rachel to break up with me. I know you're the one who spread the lies about me.”

“What lies? That you're a minute man? Please, we all know how true that one is,” Santana replied, leaning forward and glaring up at the abnormally tall boy. He was very tall, now that she looked at him. “Or how you knew about the various times she had been slushied since 'dating' you, and I use that word very loosely, given how you really cared about her since getting together with her over the summer, shown by how much time you spent with her.”

“That's cause you were hogging her,” Finn said. “You've corrupted her. Made her into..into..”

“Into what, Finnosaur? Into what?” Santana stepped forward. There was a crowd forming, McKinley students never could keep their noses out of other people's business, plus Santana tended to get involved in some fantastic fights. “Into a woman who can think for herself, who can actually look at her relationships and attempt to have an equal partner in them. How have I fucking corrupted her?”

“Santana,” Rachel said, trying to step forward, but Finn pushed her back. Roughly. Against the lockers. Enough so she almost lost her breathe. And hit her head against a lock. 

“You're making her like you.” Finn was shouting now. Why was his voice so loud? It hurt. It hurt a lot. He apparently had decent breathe control to produce that much sound. 

“So apparently there's something that wrong me with?” Santana replied. She was loud too, but Rachel expected that. With Santana there were two volumes. Loud and Ear-piercing. They hadn't reached the secon- ow, her head really hurt. Maybe sitting down would be nice. “How is being an independent woman, who won't let any one, man or woman walk over her a bad thing? How is fighting for your friends and standing next to them a terrible thing? You tell me fine, what's so flawed and wrong with me that I have supposedly turned Rach into.”

“You made her into a lesbian like you!”:

The hallway was silent. Rachel stood up quickly, the dizziness and pain aside. She moved around Finn and looked at her best friend. 

Santana was broken. She had never seen fear or sadness on the girl, the former grower faster and faster. Her breasts moved swiftly up and down, eyes darting back and forth, but her feet stepped away so slowly. No one spoke around them, but it would be only seconds before the gossip, the stares, the pointing started. McKinley wasn't a kind place, and certainly not to those who were different. An ethnic lesbian? Slushing would be just the start of the torment. Santana stumbled a bit, her feet sliding on the floor, trying to grasp at something so she wouldn't free fall. 

In a moment, she was darting down the hallway, away from the still silent, full room. 

Rachel heard Brittany's cry, but didn't register it as anything but attention. Instead, she stepped in front of Finn and punched him as hard as she possible could, putting her weight into like Brittany had taught her, twisting her hips using her strong legs to gather extra power and her shoulders and hips to distribute that power to her tiny, non-manlike, hands.

It was Finn's turn to hit the lockers, collapse against them, and slide to the floor. Rachel didn't see any of it. She was running down the hallway the moment she pulled her fist back from Finn's probably broken nose. She heard a second pair of footsteps, felt a light hand grasp herself and then pull her towards a out of the way bathroom, the bathroom Santana had forced her into after she and Quinn nearly fucked in the school, which she still kinda wished they did. 

Brittany reached the door first and started to open it, but Rachel stopped her. “Wait.”

“Wait?” She was mad. Rachel had never seen the blonde this way; torn and hurt and angry were the three things that warred on her face. “My girlfriend has just been outed by the biggest idiot in the school and-”

“Quinn will kill him if her best friend doesn't stop her.” Brittany paused. 

“Why not you?”

“Because I will let her and help her hide the body,” Rachel said, no hesitation or regret. Finn didn't just hurt, or worse, maybe break Santana, he hurt every person who was struggling with their sexuality, who fought with themselves through fear of nonacceptance to pain of dismissal and rejection. “And I know you are smarter than me, Brittany, that you could do it and probably better, but you haven't had to struggle with people hating you for as along as I have, people who disliked who you were just because who you were, who your parents were, through no fault of their own. Don't tell me you've suffered through that.”

Brittany said nothing.

Rachel stepped forward and pulled her hand from the door, wrapping hers around it. “Santana will need you. But right now, she needs someone who's been there, even if its not the same. Quinn will listen to you, and I'd really like to get my EGOT before going to jail.” The blonde laughed, wiping away her tears. 

“I'm sorry,” she said. Rachel just nodded. Brittany didn't need to explain why. 

“Just go get Quinn, we'll be here waiting kay?” Brittany nodded, gave one last look towards Santana's hiding place, and ran down the now empty hallway to wherever Quinn had hidden herself. 

Rachel sighed. She leaned on the door, listening to silence within. Opening the door without another care, Rachel stepped inside and locked it before turning to look at the Latina hugging her knees against the wall, sobbing but quiet, almost motionless, into her legs. 

“Oh, San,” Rachel said; she ran to her friend and hugged her as tightly as she could, almost pulling the girl into her lap. The light, how was Santana almost weightless, girl slide in and let herself be surrounded by the only slightly shorter diva's arms. Santana wrapped hers around Rachel's neck and began to hitch her shoulders up and down. She felt a wetness form on her neck and shoulder, and the gentle shakes within the Latina. But no sound. She couldn't hear anything. Barbara, what would drive a girl to cry to with no sound.

Rachel said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: BWHAHAHAHAHAcough!cough!cough!sneeze.... sorry bout that – so seventh chapter here, unbetaed but will be shortly, don't worry folks. Anyways, I'm actually doing some plot, at least following some of the things I liked from season 3, but whatevs. I do what I wants.... that sounds so horrible from me... i'm sorry.
> 
> Moving on.
> 
> I like this chapter and the one that follows, I think it was fun to do more with Santana, who is slowly becoming one of my favorite people to write perspective from, mainly because of how varied and real she is sometimes... in fanfic, b/c Ryan Murphy fails at continuity.
> 
> As always, I do not own Glee. This is a tragedy, but can be fixed with your help by reading and review. 
> 
> Because I can:  
> SureralSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn purred. It was not a common occurrence, but she was aware of the times when she felt so comfortable, so happy, which in itself was an oddity, that the glee, pun intended, god she was rambling like her girlfriend, yes girlfriend, they had finally finalized their relationship, had to escape.

November 22th

Quinn purred. It was not a common occurrence, but she was aware of the times when she felt so comfortable, so happy, which in itself was an oddity, that the glee, pun intended, god she was rambling like her girlfriend, yes girlfriend, they had finally finalized their relationship, had to escape. 

There was little to be truly happy about during the school week however. After punching Finn, both Rachel and the boy, who deserved that title now more than ever, were suspended for three days. Only three thanks to Figgins desire to win a football game on Saturday, and that Rachel would have called the ACLU given Finn's actions in outing a girl who was certainly not ready. Though Rachel was banned from performing at sectionals, which would hurt them, but not cripple given the Glee captain's new attitude.

That meant three days without her friends. Santana did not show up to school for those three days, and Brittany had accompanied her the entire time. Glee was uneventful and somber, while the play practice was put on hold and a rushed run through scheduled for Thursday before opening night on Friday and the two performances on Saturday. In fact the entire school was quiet. An angry Quinn saw to that.

The Head Bitch in Charge was out and about for those three days, frightening everyone in her presence into submission and respect, but she could not be everywhere. The hockey players avoided her, as did some of the Cheerios and football players, but they were small in the grand scheme of things. There was work to be done and friends to protect. 

Sue Sylvester said she was proud of how Quinn was protecting what was hers. That there was a reason she made head cheerleader freshmen year after all. 

Thus, when Thursday came, and she watched as both Santana and Rachel sang a song about kissing a girl and liking it, she could not but help and join in, along with the rest of the female Gleeks. It was fun and meaningless, and no one thought of her as lesbian, which was even better, but it showed their support of Santana and Brittany, who had been outed as a byproduct but could not care less. Finn had tried to make things right, but one glare from Mercedes, which surprised her, had sat him down after he suggested a women's week as a means of showcasing how woman were important too. Quinn's inner feminism and tiger had to be held by back Santana of all people. 

At the play practice, a dry run through, Rachel approached Quinn and they had a nice long discussion, sans any touching which disappointed her tiger-self, and she came away from that talk with a girlfriend. Which was so much better than a boyfriend, though Rachel liked to joke in their texting that she was the boy in the relationship, ignoring the penis she had sometimes.

Friday had brought some ease to the tension of the school, along with a hockey player thrown in the dumpster by Quinn after he slushied Santana. Right after in fact. The bastard did not have the intelligence to at least notice her presence and had to suffer probably a massive headache from the way he hit the back of the dumpster. She decided that it was unimportant. 

Quinn also talked to Finn, when she found him alone in the choir room during lunch. The boy seemed so lost and unsure of the hatred he had received that any anger and frustration she felt disappeared. The tiger-self was not happy, but the Quinn-self knew better. Finn was remorseful for what he had done, knew it was wrong somewhere in him, but he did not fully understand. 

So they talked. Took most of lunch, and some of their free periods, but Quinn listened as Finn just talked about all the things he did not understand or wanted to know more, and how he did not realize that no one knew about Santana being a lesbian was suppose to be a secret. His ignorance did not lessen his error, but at least, Quinn understood why and decided that to kill him now would be wrong. In a rare moment of kindness during the week, she offered to help him, to be a big sister to him despite being a bit younger than the boy. Santana did not like the decision, though Brittany thought it was wonderful and therefore so did the Latina.

Which led them all to Saturday, sleeping over at Quinn's rather large home on a coach in front of a large television, where she was only one sitting really, Rachel was lounging on her, back to the armrest, scratching the back of her neck, just in her hair line, as she rested her head on her shoulder, while Brittany was leaning on her other side, cuddling with a Santana, a rare and easily excited creature according to Brittany, so no sudden movements. Quinn smile and nodded, relaxing around the three people who the tiger-self felt comfortable around.

“Stop it,” Santana said.

“Hmm,” Quinn replied, her eyes closed and just enough the touch of her girlfriend, and her best friend, and her protector. 

“The purring,” She continued. “I can feel it through Britt, and...”

“Aww,” Brittany said, “I know that look.”

“What look?” Rachel paused her hand, and Quinn wanted to growl at the lack of scratches. This was a sin and would not be tolerated. 

“Britts, no,” Santana tried to sit up, but a firm on around her waist prevented her from moving. 

“She's horny!” Santana groaned and turned to hide her face in Brittany's stomach. “It's okay though, we can fix that.”

“Now?” Rachel asked. The scratching had not started up yet, the hand was there tempting her. Quinn started to nuzzle Rachel in an attempt to convince her to start again. 

“No.” “yes.” Santana and Brittany said. Santana sat up and looked away. 

“Oh, that's right,” Brittany replied. “Rach, come.” She stood up and pulled the diva away, out of the room and quickly upstairs where a door slam informed the remaining two that it was alone time for their girlfriends.

“Your girlfriend is weird,” Quinn said, smiling at Santana. 

“Your girlfriend is crazy,” Santana replied. 

“I can not really argue with that,” Quinn shuffled in her seat, trying to get comfortable again now that Rachel was gone. She had enjoyed the warmth and pressure the girl provided and without it, the almost empty house grew colder. 

Brittany came running down stairs to the dark living room and grabbed her back. “Forgot something,” she said, and Santana hid her face again. 

Silence settled next to the girls after a door slammed shut. “I'm so so so sorry, Q,” Santana said, shaking her face in her hands. 

“Why?” Quinn asked. 

“I think I might have gave Rachel... the idea that... well,” Santana looked away, “she and Britts should compare notes.”

“I do not see how that is a-” Quinn started but paused. “What kind of notes?”

“It may have been just after you went all hyper-sex cat on her, and she was gloating a bit about how you and all-” she waved a hand at Quinn's waist, at least tried to, given that she had not looked back at her. 

Quinn sighed, keeping her attention on some sort of movie playing on HBO2. “How bad will it be?”

Santana shrugged. She shifted on the coach until she was stretched out and resting on the other armrest. “Brittany has a few.”

“Notes?”

“Notebooks,” Santana replied. Quinn finally looked at her friend. “I'm sorry, I didn't think that-” 

“I swear if she comes down here with some crazy sex-capade that came from your girlfriend-”

“Your best-friend.”

“Your girlfriend, I will...” Quinn had no threat really, but something was required. “I will make Brittany cut you off.”

“You wouldn't dare,” Santana sat up, returning the glare of the tigress. 

“It would be your fault, you know that,” Quinn said. “You are the one who told them to compare notes, which I doubt that Rachel even has any.”

“Rachel, your girlfriend?” Santana leaned back down. “Not having excessive amounts of notes regarding her sexual fantasies prior to and currently involving you? The same girl who walked into Glee last week with over fifty pages of individually selected information for each member?”

Quinn groaned and fell forward into her hands. “And further more, you can not blame me for this. I'm simply doing what you can't.”

“What is that suppose to mean?”

“I'm the one who had to give your girlfriend the talk,” Santana said, “I'm the one who womanned up and told her about her failure towards Glee. Things you couldn't do. You're the one wanting to fuck a sex kitten, pun intended.”

“You are so cultured,” Quinn replied. Santana had stepped in where she could not, or rather would not. She had hurt her girlfriend so much in the past, and now, the things Rachel needed at the moment was more than Quinn felt comfortable giving the girl. She did not want to her any more. 

“I know right,” Santana turned back to the television screen. “It's not a bad thing, just don't blame me for your fucking ineptitude.”

Quinn did not say anything. Santana had been protecting her for as long as she could remember, even when it was from herself. They did not speak much about her sophomore year, and all the troubles that went with it, mostly because Quinn had a hard time accepting just what the Latina did for her, even when it was difficult and painful. Santana had her kicked off the squad in order to protect her unborn child. Santana was the one who kept pressuring Finn to cheat on her, just to show how much of a boy he really was. Santana was the who helped her deal with getting kicked out, giving up Beth, her struggling sexuality, everything. Santana protected her. Now, Quinn wanted to do the same, even if only lighten the load she was forced to carry.

“How are you?” Quinn asked.

“Hmm?”

“We have not really talked about this week,” Quinn said. 

“Is there anything I can say that will stop this conversation?” Santana stared at the television. She wrapped a blanket around herself and attempted to burrow into the armrest. Every once in a while, she forgot that Santana was a smaller girl. She was not tiny or anything, but the large voice, the large presence and strength masked everything that was physically her. Santana was a person who everyone knew was present and they would never forget it. Rachel too, in a different way. Maybe that was why they were such good friends. 

It was rare, but there were times when she wondered why the beautiful Latina put up with Quinn's crazy life, why she kept with her when it was obvious she could have more, better, friends that would not hurt her like she did in the past. Things were better this year, they both knew it, but Quinn wanted, no needed, to make things better. Make things right. And it would start with her stepping up. 

“I want,” Quinn started, but shook her head. “I need to know what I can do.” 

“And if I don't want to talk about this,” Santana replied.

“Then I am going to cuddle with you as a tiger until you do.”

“Would human form be acceptable?” Quinn moved across the couch next to the Latina without another word. Santana slid into her side, resting just under her arm on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist. 

They rarely sat like this. Before she was kicked out Quinn kept her distance from the pair, just as means of submitting to her father. After returning home, when she had struggled so hard with her sexuality and fought against it, they stayed apart. Only during the summer, when she was tired of fighting, exhausted from the tiger constantly battling her needs and wants, did Quinn let Santana curl into her. Or was it Santana let Quinn wrap herself around her? Did it matter?

“I came out,” Santana said. 

Quinn said nothing; her hand traced along Santana's arm, the other played with her midnight black hair, letting it just glide through her fingers. 

“To my parents,” Santana continued. “It was... okay.” She squeezed tighter. “They didn't seem surprised or nothing, but... I could tell they were uncomfortable bout it. Like they didn't know how to respond. Catholic upbringing and all that shit.”

Quinn just emulate the touch Santana that Brittany sometimes did when the Latina was upset. In a completely non-sexual manner. She kept her mouth shut and just nodded.

“I'm more worried about my abuela. She's... she's the one who taught me about myself, about God, about the earth and everything, she's... I can't describe how fucking awesome she is. This one time, I swear, this rando broke into her house, and while he was digging through her drawers, she tackled him, bound him to a chair and started to play Barbara Streisand over and over and over again, waiting for the cops to show up that she called an hour later.” Quinn felt the Latina laugh, though there were soft pauses as though she had a hard time catching her brief to prevent another emotion from taking over. 

“I don't know how she'll take it.”

Quinn said nothing. 

“Lima sucks as it is, and … and this is just gonna make it worse,” Santana said. “School is gonna suck, it already does.”

“Anything I can do?” Quinn asked. Santana said nothing for a bit. Some infomercial was talking about a better way to chop vegetables or something. It was annoying her. “Really anything.”

“I know you talked to him already,” Santana said. “Britts told me.”

“Sorry.”

Santana shook her head. “'s cool. I understand. Someone had to teach him some manners. Or at least warn him to stay out of my way.”

“Not about that.”

“Hmm?”

“That it was you he forced out.”

“Oh,” Santana said and tried to burrow into her Quinn's stomach. “I’m not.”

“It should have-”

Santana sat up and leaned into Quinn until she was almost touching noses. She had seen the black irises expand until they filled the eye, the tight eyebrows and almost nonexistent lips before, but rarely directed at her. “You don't fucking get to do that, you gets me?”

“Santana, I...” Quinn said. The anger disappeared, leaving only soft and almost wet eyes, glowing in the blue light behind her. Santana's face had lost all tension, all power, leaving only the tired, almost broken girl that she had seen that day Finn spoke freely. 

She reached up and cupped her cheeks. “I protect you. I take care of you. It's my job to protect you and Britts and Hobbs from everyone else and -”

“Santana,” Quinn interrupted. Her voice was soft and gentle. “Then it is my job to care for all of you.”

Santana did not pull her hands away. Quinn leaned into one, just enough so there was some light pressure on it. “You have done so much for me, saved me when I could not save myself. Or would not. You stepped up and said “this is what I am going to do” and you did it. You protected me and made Brittany one of the greatest people I know. You have helped me and Rachel get together, helping her understand all the flaws I have that she does not know about. You have done so much, and yet I have never seen you do anything for yourself.”

“It's my-”  
\--  
“I know you think it is your job to take care of us,” Quinn replied. “That you are my beta, my commander who brings down the wrath upon the world.” She covered one of Santana's hands and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. “You are my archangel, delivering the news from on high.”

Santana laughed, but Quinn saw the reflection of something glistening in her eyes. 

“Remember what you told Rachel in the bathroom,” Quinn asked. 

“Which time?”

“You do spent an great deal of time in the ladies' restroom with my girlfriend,” Quinn replied.

Santana laughed again, dropping her other hand, but letting Quinn hold one to her cheek. “She was your not-girlfriend at the time.”

“Details,” Quinn said. “Remember?” 

“Mhmm.” She knew which time, the one that really mattered, the one where she protected Rachel by forcing her to see the truth.

“You said that it is the captain's duty to take care of their squad right?”

“Of course.”

“I have not.”

“What?!” Santana tried to pull back, but Quinn had wrapped an arm around her waist and held the girl tight near her.

“I have not taken care of you. I have taken everything that you have done for me, protected me from, helped with me, for granted, and I can not express how sorry I am for doing so, how grateful I am that you have, or how much you mean to me. San, I know you see more than I do. Please, I need you to understand-” 

Santana slid her hand to cover Quinn's mouth. There were tears now in her eyes. “Don't. Please.”

Quinn pulled the hand away and gathered both in one of hers. “I know you can see how much your pain hurts me. That I have not done as I should have and cared and protected you.”

“Q...,” Santana was trying to push back, to force her face to look away. 

“You and Brittany were the only two people I had this world,” Quinn said. “And I have treated you so horrible. I have taken you for granted and I can never express how much that hurts me to know I have hurt you by doing so. You three are my life, San, please I need you to know that.”

“Please,” Santana shook her head, eyes remaining on Quinn's. 

“So, do not hold this in,” Quinn said. “You have spent so long saving me, it is time for me to save you. I will not let anyone else hurt you, okay?” A nod. “Good.”

“I've reached my sappy quota for month, can we-” Santana said, finally pulling away, but wrapped herself tighter around Quinn. 

“Terrible, terrible horror movies it is,” Quinn replied, and practically pulled Santana in her lap. The Latina was lighter than Rachel, which frightened her sometimes, but she would help her, take care of it. She had not been a good captain, and it took one of her pack being hurt badly to see that. Quinn could fix that. It was not too late, and it was what her friend needed.

She surfed netflix until she came upon a horror film with only one star, which was not long enough, given that Santana continued to try to burrow her way into Quinn. The Latina was cuddly when she wanted to be. It was not Rachel, but Quinn liked it when she got to hold someone. She liked being the big spoon in the relationship. 

“Oh, Q?” Santana said.

“Hmm?”

“If Rachel asks you to do something with wax, make sure you do a full shave before hand. Getting an unexpected body wax is not fun.” Quinn stiffened slightly, but relaxed as Santana laughed into her. Things were going to get better sooner than later. 

Halfway through the first portion, watching some due torture some other dude by breaking his fingers one by one, Brittany and Rachel returned at a more sedated pace. Santana was laughing at the poor victim on the screen. “We're watching this now?” Rachel asked. 

“Yep,” Santana said. “You'll still feeling guilty and or upset about what happened and are letting me pick the movies for the night. It's only right.”

“But..but...but,” Rachel tried to argue but Brittany pulled her to the couch, sat her between her and Quinn and pulled the other blonde as close as possible, so much so that Rachel was almost laying on the two, and on top of Santana slightly. Quinn did not figure out how this was possible, but accepted that the three woman in her life were close and safe and happy at least for the moment. 

The Unholy Quad, that did not have the same ring and Quinn would never consider Rachel unholy, well, she could given how much the girl enjoyed pleasurable torturing her, the Unholy Trinity and Rachel sat/lied together on the couch, and she enjoyed the relative silence. Rachel and Santana had a tendency to be overly direct and present with their voices, and sometimes Quinn just enjoyed stillness, sitting or lying and doing nothing except being there. The tiger-self especially enjoyed it, but she fought the purring when Brittany's hand found her neck and started scratching during the second movie to keep that stillness. Quinn failed, maybe on purpose, she did not know. 

“I swear to God and all that is holy,” Santana grumbled from her lap. 

“What's wrong?” Brittany asked.

“Stop the purring,” she replied, and looked up at Quinn. 

“I can not,” Quinn said, and Brittany did not stop either. Santana stood from her lap, grabbed Brittany's hand, and rushed out of the room, headed for the stairs. “Use the guest room on the other side of the-” A door slammed shut. “Damn.”

“What's wrong?” Rachel climbed into her lap and took over the scratching detail, as was her duty. 

“Santana picked my bedroom,” Quinn said.

“For what?” Quinn raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend. “Oh. Do you...” She trailed off, but kept her eyes on the screen. 

“It is up to you,” Quinn said. The tiger-self was always horny, especially when Rachel was sitting so close. 

“Can you just hold me and we just talk?” Rachel replied. 

“Sure,” Quinn said, she wrapped an arm around her waist and held her as she laid down, using the armrest as a pillow. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and covered them. 

Rachel snuggled in closer so that Quinn was lying on her back and she was practically a blanket for the blonde. She started to scratch her stomach instead of the back of her neck, which was probably a better feeling. “This is nice.”

Quinn purred louder.

“I want to talk about what we've been doing,” Rachel said.

“We are laying on my couch with you avoiding watching another terribly bad horror movie.”

A moan pierced through the house, and Quinn was rather happy that her mother was not present to hear it. Probably why they, and they being Santana, did it. Just to taunt her. “Seriously, can we turn it off, or at least to something else to drown out their sexual activities.”

“Sure,” Quinn reached over her girlfriend and changed the movie to some childish television show she had never been able to watch while her father was living in the house. 

“Digimon really?” Quinn shrugged and shifted on the couch, getting comfortable again. Her hand snaked under Rachel's overly large sweater, and she drew circles on her back. “Brittany and I talked about you and us.”

“I figured from what Santana told me,” Quinn said. “Should I be worried?”

“I know now where to get some reasonable priced sex toys when we're ready for them, but for the moment no.” Quinn felt her face grow warm and fought a groan at the thought. Thankfully the purring did not stop. “I want to talk about our dynamics.” 

“Okay...” 

“You don't take charge,” Rachel said.

“Hmmm?”

“In public,” Rachel continued. “We agreed that I would be in charge and thus dominate you in private, the bedroom and when we're alone. But you don't really do that to me in public.”

“You mean order you around, command you to do things,” Quinn said.

“Yeah, I-I don't understand it.”

“Two weeks ago, Thursday, what did I tell you,” Quinn asked, her eyes focusing on a little spot on the ceiling. Rachel paused for a second trying to remember, she assumed. “I said that we're eating lunch in the cafetaria, because you skipped three days worth of lunch, despite it being only vegan food. The Monday we got back, first period, before you heard Mercedes do her little tirade on you about glee and solos and stuff, I asked that you take it easier on yourself, slow down a bit at least a school. Even when you upset that day, you did. I am the one who decides where we are sitting and what we are doing during school hours, when we went to the mall, it was my agenda and you asked for my permission to do something, remember I said no and you did not argue?” Rachel nodded.

“I do not need to express it,” Quinn said, “And it is not just you, Rae, it is everyone that lets me lead, dominate them so to speak. How often do you remember me not being in charge, not setting the path at which we follow? Excluding Glee, because I can not rightfully take that from you The slushies may not have been mine, but I continued them, encouraged them. Not just against you but everyone else too. They were done, most with my orders, explicit or not. 

“I am the girl my father groomed me to be, the persona of in charge and passive at the same time, both a leader and a lady, so to speak. I was the perfect child for him, and he would have seen to it that I was either the top of the business world or married to the top, controlling it; all under his wishes, his wants, his desires and needs. I was a Fabray, but only because he said so. ”

“But with you, Rae,” Quinn said, she did not reach to wipe away the tears that sat in her eyes. “But with you, I am no longer that, with you, and slowly with Santana and certainly Brittany again, I am Lucy. I am, for lack of a better word, happy.”

“There's a better word than happy?” Rachel smirked into Quinn's bare shoulder, shifting the strap of her camisole.

“I am comfortable and safe and cherished and know that all the masks I wear at school, at the mall, in public, Rae, I do not need any more and I can let myself stop being in charge, stop being this person who is perfect all the time. I doubt that true happiness will ever be mine, but that is okay. My father held all the power in our house, and never let us forget it. I have done everything that someone else has wanted for me, until sophomore year when I got pregnant and things changed. I was under the control of people I did not want to. I could not be me. I am Quinn Fabray, HBIC and head cheerleader, menace and monster of McKinley High. And until you let me in, that was all I was ever going to me, a statue to be admired, a figurehead to be feared.

“In private, when we are alone, and I feel safe and comfortable, and ...” She trailed off. “I do not need it any more. I do not need to be in charge. For once, it is my choice to command, rather than forced. I can just be and know that I will not be hurt by the situation.”

“I would never, ever, ever,” Rachel said, her hand stopping for a moment, “hurt you Quinn.”

“It is okay,” she replied, She reached with her other hand and started the scratching again. “You will, I will. Relationships do not mean perfection, just commitment. And my commitment to this is because I feel those thing, Rae. Because you make me feel them. Even back over the summer.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, and snuggled closer.

“Okay?”

“Yep.”

“Then why...”

“I just needed to know your reasons, to see that you are truly comfortable with this.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. She looked down at Rachel; her eyes were closed, a smile on her face, and the girl was pressing hard against her body. 

“And we'll talk about the notebooks in the morning, when Santana and Brittany leave.”

“Notebooks?” Quinn felt her voice break a little. 

“Yep, Brittany and I shared a lot of ideas, and I want to share them with you.” 

“We are setting boundaries tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Rachel said. “Whatever you want kitty.” With that, she started to snore softly and Quinn had no chance to argue or complain or anything. She sighed, pulled her girlfriend closer and fell into a light sleep. 

******

The tree shook violently, almost toppling over as the pseudo-storm passed through town. Only, nothing else was move. There was no houses being torn apart by the savage winds that didn't exist. There were no lamps broken, no mailboxes flying through the air, no bushes shredded. Nothing moved, except for the single tree on the side of the street. 

The pseudo-storm dissipated, leaving tree shaken, still trembling under the effects of ever forced it to move in an unnatural way, yet remain stationary, alive. Lights flickered on the street, one by one, cascading down away from the tree, until the lamps in front of a single house shut off.

The man stood at the top of the tree, balanced on a limb. A whitish cloak that melded into the cloudy sky danced in the same non-existent wind, though he didn't shift at all. He faced the now darkened house.

Inside the residence, rested a beast of terrible power, one that needed to be destroyed. One of many in the town of Lima. 

He tracked the existent of the pack through many histories and stories, back channel police reeports and barroom gossip. Three weeks of listening to locals tell tall tales and ramble on and on of terrible creatures within their town, folklore that no one really believed or could prove, even when some of them swore up and down. He watched the economy of the town, searching through the sales and distribution of certain items, taking careful notice of very specific meals the beat required. Two weeks sifting through the records of individual businesses that hadn't had the courtesy to digitize their records yet. 

Standing still, staring forward, and taking in the empty movements of the house, he questioned whether or not this was the correct residence, or even if there was something present. He left the town a year ago, after no activity was sighted for four years, not expecting to ever return. But something drew him back here. Something terrible, dark, and everlasting. It was time for that beast to end. 

A window opened on the far side of the house, behind his standard line of sight, and the beast jumped down in his pale imitation of human form two stories up, and took off at a sprint for the forest. He let it have its few minutes head start before jumping down from the tree and chasing after it, moving by its scent alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, I hate econ… So life has been a bit busy, to say the least, and I’ve had some school related things that have come up, thus preventing me from posting this. But that’s cool and all. I hate myself for leaving you guys without something new, but I do place real life first, which I hate even more. It sucks being responsible.
> 
> now, come Nov. 1st, I am attempting NaNoWriMo, and placed a really really stupid goal of 120k. I doubt I’ll get much writing done here, but I’ll do my best to add to this when I can, when my novel-experiment hits a rough patch. I have one chapter in the waits, which I will post next Monday(Nov. 4th), so hopefully this and that will hold you over until then. A new chap of Invisible is up, and my short-collection has some things going into it as well. Shameless plug over.
> 
> So with that said, here’s the next chapter, continue to read and review(b/c honestly, reviews are like crack for me) and remember that I own nothing of glee. If I did, we’d have a walking dead/ dawn of the dead situation going on the second episode.
> 
> Because I can,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	9. Chapter 9

November 24th 

Rachel stood her locker after lunch, attempting to decide how much she should bring to class, and given the amount of homework she had completed the weekend before, despite being curled most of it with her girlfriend and their friends(FRIENDS!) staying over Saturday, she was still unsure about classes. Thanksgiving break usually meant time for the teachers to pile on the homework or projects and her English course was no different, asking for a five page analysis due when they returned from said supposed break. Apparently, every teacher thought that they were the only ones who assigned worked, and their work should be priority. Thanksgiving was this week, and while the Berries lacked a full tradition, this year, they had been invited to join her Daddy's family in Pennsylvania, and Rachel wanted Quinn to come. She was an important part of her life, one that Rachel would not give up without a fight, and it was important for their relationship that Quinn know she was welcomed where Rachel was or will be. Ms. Fabray was attending the holiday with Quinn’s sister, and while the blonde was invited, she made it clear that it was a token invite (from her sister’s perspective), nothing else, so her girlfriend choose to remain at home where she could transform and deal with her full moon in a manner that was healthy and supported by her newly acquired Diva-Watch (name pending finding one that Santana didn’t laugh at). Now, though, was the time for class, not thoughts of how Quinn looked under her, wiggling in pleasure, a train of thoughts that she found herself having quite often these days, but she never complained about it, because it meant having a significant other, this time a girlfriend, and that meant relationship, and that meant the right to perv on her partner in relationship, with or without said partner’s permission. 

Quinn gave it fully.

“What’s up with Q?” Santana asked, pausing at her locker. The cheerio uniform still made her pause, given that a conditioned action took a while to remove, but she was slowly getting used to seeing the Unholy Trinity, at least two thirds of it, in uniform. “She complaining bout her pants again?”

“You mean the lack thereof?” Rachel replied. A notebook and her pencil case would have to suffice, in addition to the text book, for science. 

“How’d you got her to wear old-school Quinn cloths consistently again is beyond my fucking comprehension,” Santana smirked. “Looks better than punk-rocker though.” The girl of their conversation turned the corner with the other third of the Unholy Trinity. Quinn wore a sundress with a nice yellow cardigan over it, her once short hair now had grown out a bit, and the punk makeup was completely gone. It was so close to the Quinn of her sophomore year, the one who Rachel first realized she liked girls and forced her to accept her bisexuality. That was a fun period, given her obsession with Finn, but that was the past now. The present held a fantastically hot girlfriend who was driven, caring, and attentive, qualities that Rachel found out were ever so important for her in a partner. 

“You awake there, Hobbs?” Santana asked. “What’s up with your girl?”

“A, I don’t believe you can actually own a person,” Rachel answered. “B, I have no idea.”

Quinn was talking, or rather, whisper-yelling with The Mack, which was an incredibly silly nickname and arrogant, demanding the descriptor of “the” placed in front of name, as if there was only one who mattered. Rachel didn’t know what. It wasn’t her business. She wanted to know. She liked knowing things. Knowing things was an important quality in understanding life, not that gossip was good, but it made avoiding slushies and other aspects of bullying when she could. 

“What the fuck’s the skank’s problem?”

Rachel shrugged. The bell would ring shortly, and while arriving late was the accented norm in this school, it was important to be punctual. She closed her lock, held her books tightly to her chest and walked towards her girlfriend and the skank. Quinn paused mid word and turned to her, smiling, the furrowed eyes and scowl gone from her face. She stepped towards her, into her space. “Hey,” she said, and she returned the smile.

“Hey,” she replied. 

“You’re both fucking disgusting,” The Mack said. “Q, this is what I’m talking about. You can’t-”

“I know what I’m doing,” Quinn said, glaring at her. “I have this under control.”

“Sure you did, so did Tish,” The Mack stepped towards Quinn and Rachel, a growl cut through the air. It wasn’t either of the two girls arguing though. Rachel looked over at Santana, who had approached and stepped right next to her captain, hands tight in fists, and shaking. “What the fuck-“

“Step the fuck off, bitch,” Santana said. “Or I ends you.” Her eyes flashed… was that green? Santana’s eyes flashed a bright, emerald green, or Rachel was seeing things from the amount of testosterone in the air being produced by the women, or some other poorly worded metaphor. Despite being her thing, she really was bad at creating them, though Rachel would never admit that to anyone, not even Quinn. 

“You…you’re a-“ The Mack stepped back. “What the fuck, Q? What’s this bullshit? What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?”

Santana stepped closer and Rachel moved into Quinn’s arms. She wasn’t afraid of Santana, or Quinn, or Brittany (certainly never Brittany). But that didn’t mean she had to be stupid and stay in the middle of what would be a fight. “Back the fucking fuck off, or I will make you wish I did end you, skank.”

“Just…” The Mack stepped away and looked at Quinn, a sad, worried look, similar to one Rachel knew she wore most of the beginning of this school year whenever she looked at Quinn too. Girl better not have a crush on her girlfriend, so Rachel would take a page out of Santana’s book and “cut a bitch” so to speak. “Just be careful.” The skank ran off, away from them. 

Quinn let Rachel go and grasped Santana in a hug. “Do you need Brittany?” Santana didn’t relax. “San?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice hoarse and tired. “I have gym, we’re gonna dodgeball.”

“I thought it was basketball this week?” Rachel said. 

“We’re gonna dodgeball,” Santana repeated. Quinn let go of her avenger, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will be,” Quinn said. “You’ll protect me, but I take care of you. All of you. Text if you need Brit, I’ll see her before you do.”

The anger slipped away, a smile growing on her face. “Nah, we have a meeting before lunch in one of the science rooms near the east doors.”

Rachel paled. “I have class there after lunch.” Santana laughed and walked off, waving goodbye. “Wait, what are you gonna do there? Santana? Please don’t tell me… Oh Barbara, you better not. Not my classroom. I like knowing I don’t have to-“

“You should stop yelling that in the hallways,” Quinn said. Rachel closed her mouth. Her friends (FRIENDS!) were so dirty. “We do not want to get Santana in trouble, especially over Britt-time.”

“That’s so disgusting,” Rachel said, turning to her classroom, taking Quinn’s elbow in her hand. Her girlfriend walked her slowly. They ignored the bell. Okay, maybe there was a good reason for being late, but still, she knew this should not be normal for her. Punctuality was important. “How they continue to do that, especially with how unsanitary this place is.” 

“Says the girl who went down on me in the art rooms.” Rachel blushed. Quinn leaned down and kissed her cheek then whispered into her ear, “Just think, we can take a page out of their book. Choir room is empty.”

“I will not let you tarnish my sanctum.”

“So auditorium is out as well?” Rachel blushed brighter. “Oh, someone has a bit of an exhibitionist streak in her?”

“Can we talk about something else, please, kitty?” Rachel whispered, trying to look as demurely as possible, making Quinn wrap an arm around her, pulling herself even closer. “Like what that was about.”

“Oh… with The Mack?” 

“Yes her, what is her real name?” Quinn shrugged. “Do you know and not going to tell me, or really don’t know?” She shrugged again. “I hate you so much right now.” She received a kiss on her cheek. “A little less, but still a lot of anger.” A kiss on her ear, with a very light nibble. “A lot less.” Quinn slide her hand down her spine, just to the top of her ass. “We are in public.”

“I know,” Quinn said, nuzzling against her neck.

“We have class,” Rachel replied.

Her girlfriend sighed heavily and stepped back a bit, and they began walking again, this time at a swifter pace. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Later?”

“Of course.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Sleeping most likely, make just make a sandwich or something, maybe watch some trashy tv or work on one of my AP projects.”

“Feel up to seeing people?” Rachel asked.

“Hmm?”

“I want…would you like to attend thanksgiving with my family, please?” Quinn paused, though Rachel kept walking, finding herself pulled back to the ridiculously strong tigress. Honestly, how she wasn’t crushed every time she received a hug still surprised her.

“Really?”

Rachel nodded.

“You…you want me with… your family?” Quinn asked. “For Thanksgiving?”

“No one should be alone for the holidays or special occasions,” Rachel said, looking down and away from Quinn. Her chin was pushed up until she looked into her eyes. 

“You’re talking about all your missed birthdays and sleepovers aren’t you?” 

“Those aren’t-“ 

“They are, and I cannot tell you the sorrow it now causes me to know that I have hurt you so much,” Quinn said. There were tears in her eyes. That was not acceptable. 

“No, please, Quinn,” Rachel stepped closer to her. They were really gonna be late to class; this would not look good on her transcript. Number of tardies and/or absences: one. So horrible. But Quinn was more important. She always would be. “That wasn’t what I was trying to say. Yes, it hurt then, but you’re with me and things are better now. So much better. I can… I can’t tell you... Please believe me, Quinn, you here now matters more than anything in our past. I have forgiven you and Santana and everyone else so many times. 

“But,” she said, “I’m not going to forget. It would be foolish for me to do so. You three have earned my friendship. And I offer it freely without reservations or conditions. It is yours to hold and cherish. You have earned my love, Quinn, so many times over I’ve lost count. My heart rests in your hands. But know how fragile it is, know how easy it would be to break it, shatter it, destroy it. Destroy me.”

“Never has anyone given me a more precious gift,” Quinn said, her smile sliding into a smirk. “Well, freely and wanted. Beth is the most precious gift I’ve ever had to grace to receive.” They didn’t talk about her child or the adoption or her adopting mother/Rachel’s birth-mother. For both of them. 

“Of course,” Rachel said. She stood up on her toes and kissed her nose. “Now, we are really late and-“

“It’s like been two minutes, Rae.”

“And we need to attend class as education is an extremely important aspect of our lives that should not be missed, so I’m tabling my question concerning what’s going on with you and The Mack – Seriously, does she have a real name?” Quinn shrugged, smile wide and bright. “You’re impossible.” Rachel stomped the ground and turned away, feeling Quinn’s eyes on her boy shorts that barely were decent, her short skirt rising in the air. There was a reason why she dressed this way, now some got to enjoy her efforts even more so.

Rachel arrived for class only four minutes late, and the teacher didn’t even notice that she was missing, so she sat in her usual seat in the back, where she could teach herself the physics of physics that the other students seemed to fail to understand. Really, what was so difficult about the electro-magnetic field and how it affected particles? It wasn’t that hard. 

She hadn’t lied to Quinn; she didn’t meant to bring up their past. It was in the past, even if it still hurt to know that she hadn’t had anyone really over, prior to the summer and glee club, since fifth grade, when the campaign of isolation and humiliation began, though it was in its infancy and Rachel wasn’t the only target; her loud voice just attracted them much faster. 

Things had changed now, and she had forgiven the Unholy Trinity for their acts (even though Brittany was a bystander, she felt those who stood by when acts like theirs occurred, it was just as wrong), so things were better for her. They were the best ever in fact. Finn had stopped harassing her, Glee was going wonderfully, her return to her lessons was pushed to the wayside, as she wanted to spend more time with Quinn and Santana and Brittany, maybe spent some with other people too, but she’ll see. Right now, having an awesome girlfriend was enough for her. 

Rachel smiled and returned to her textbook; things were going great. It might be presumptuous to think they couldn’t get better, but she had faith that it was impossible to get worse. 

******

“Hey Brittany,” Quinn said, sliding into her seat next to the Blonde in her Cheerio uniform. 

“Quinn!” she replied, a bright smile of happiness and wonder. “You’re dressed properly, well almost properly, at least not like a scary-goat anymore.”

She laughed. There was never harm in Brittany’s words, she learned that so long ago, and she could never hold that against her friend. “Yes, Rachel has persuaded me to give up the black clothing, at least for a bit. The jeans would be acceptable if, in her words, ‘they showed off my wonderful ass so I could stare at it.’” 

“Well, duh,” Brittany said. “Girl’s crazy.”

“About me?”

“No, just in general. You should see some of her fantasies,” Brittany continued, “I’m almost jealous. She’s gonna ride you so hard. Saddle and everything.”

Quinn dropped her head onto her desk, sighing heavily. Rachel had teased her most of Sunday after she left with selections from some of the notes she had acquired and wrote herself. It was illuminating, but Quinn had not expected something as odd as a saddle. “I would rather we talk about something else, Brittany, if that is okay with you?”

“Sure,” she said, “not like this teacher has anything important to say. It’s just calc.” Quinn figured it scared the teacher a bit when Brittany returned the first test and scored a perfect. Then when she was asked to take it again, with him watching her, because the bastard assumed that she cheated, she wrote down every proof to the problems, taking the longest path possible, but showed concepts and theorems they had not covered yet. He left her and Quinn, by association, alone for the most part. 

“Santana is struggling today,” Quinn said, her voice just a whisper. 

“I know, I heard.” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “She texted me before gym.” 

“Good,” she replied. At least Santana knew when she should find help. “She was really upset and, while Rachel and I were there, it was not good. She nearly lost control.”

Brittany frowned. “That bad?” She nodded. “Maybe sexy-times will be moved up.”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Quinn pulled out a pad and pencil from her bag, immediately doodling. The teacher droned on and on about some limits and how they approached zero and how crazy all this math was. If Brittany was not in her class, she would have fallen asleep every day. And probably failed. No, not really. Quinn knew she was smart and driven, enough that she felt she had a chance at Yale, but Brittany was something else. 

So was Santana for that matter.

“I’ll take care of our girl,” Brittany said, “you just take care of yours.”

A pointless quiz, in all senses of the word, was passed out, and they were forced to participate for once, though Brittany finished writing the moment the teacher tried to return to his desk. Quinn struggled through it; her mind was elsewhere.

Patricia ‘Tish’ Killian was a Scank, “was” being the appropriate word. Over the weekend, someone had tailed her into the forest and butchered her. The biggest issue was that she had been found by The Mack as a wolf, not a human, which meant that no one really knew she was missing. Her parents were in a panic, a manhunt was called for; things were going to get messy. At least the Mack was able to return her to human, resulting in what she was told as a more gruesome sight than previous. They would find her in the woods with no understanding of what happened, who had killed their child, and they would never receive justice in a way they understood. 

Quinn did not want to see it. Any of it.

The problem, as she saw it, was that to kill a were-wolf in their animal form was difficult, given the supernatural strength and endurance they acquired as well as the healing factor. Majority of hunters were incapable of it, especially if the wolf had the drop on them, or in the wolf’s territory. Both situations that would always be involved. The senses a were-wolf possessed were acute and specific, leaving little unknown to them. Their speed was far greater than her own, and the tigress had always felt she was extremely fast. She was stronger than them, yes, but that strength meant little if she couldn’t hit them. 

But Tish was caught alone. Wolves’ true strength laid in their overwhelming numbers and pack mentality. So a lone wolf could escape and survive, but they were limited in their offensive abilities. So why did she not? Tish knew better than to stand and fight, let alone expect to win. She should have ran. Quinn would have ran. Survivor was greater than victory.

“Quinn?” Brittany tapped her shoulder. She looked up, surprised to see her standing with her bag in hand. “Class is over. I turned in your quiz for you, not that it mattered.”

Quinn nodded. A hunter was in Lima. A hunter capable of killing a single were-wolf, and one of this caliber would know that a lone wolf was unlikely, they would hunt for the pack. Then they would find her. 

Life had grown a great deal more complicated. She had Thanksgiving and her own transformation to worry about. Even if she remained of sound mind, her tiger-self wanted freedom, and it hurt not grant it so.

Sometimes, Quinn felt she just wanted the positive things in her life to actually last.

******

Rachel locked up her practice room, returned the key to Mr. Schuester’s desk, and smiled as she practically skipped out of the choir room. Her songs were coming along nicely, and she was pretty confident that today in Glee she would show Mercedes just what practice can accomplish, even if she could not perform at sectionals. In fact, Santana, Brittany, and Mike had a piece to perform, with the dancers the focal point of it. They promised her it would be great, and it would be a nice change from the usual song focus that Mr. Schuester favored. 

The hallway was crowded enough, her mind wandering to topics of song, dance, and Quinn, that Rachel did not see the figure in front of her. 

“What’s up, Rach?” Jesse St. James said. 

Rachel felt her glare form, the one she used very rarely, when something horrible had been done to her and anger, not sadness or frustration, was warranted. It happened rarely, but she knew every single time it had occurred. She hated the feeling that grew when it happened, but it was an accepted part of her life.

She tightened her books in front of her, her palms squeezing the edges as tight as they could, threatening to cut her open. Her legs twisted slightly, into a stance that Brittany had taught her, similar to the one she found herself using against Finn when he outed Santana. Her chest ached as her heart pounded faster and harder. But none of it really showed on the outside of her. Rachel hated how involuntary the reaction was, how extreme it had grown, but sometimes, she couldn’t help it.

And she didn’t mind it either.

“Jesse,” she replied. There was no venom, no hatred, discernable in her voice. It was better that way. “What are you doing here?” 

Over the summer, she had come to the conclusion that the majority of boys she had dated where poison for her, and now she was happy that she was done with them. Puck had grown into someone decent, Finn, however, was a bit dense, and Jesse… Jesse St. James had risen to the top of her shit list, which she was surprised she had one, because he didn’t just hurt her. 

“Still as beautiful as ever I see,” he said. 

“Okay, that doesn’t answer the question. I know for a fact that U of K does not let out until Wednesday.” Barbara, she was harnessing her inner Quinn, the ice within her almost frosting her cloths. The Unholy Trinity had taught she the value of herself, and while Prom was fun with him, looking back, she was just another thing for him to use against the gleeks, a tool in his arsenal of promoting his own life and ignoring everyone else’s. 

“You know my schedule? How sweet.” 

“Preservation,” Rachel took a step back. “I’ve found that knowing when people are going to be around is good when you wish to avoid them.” Jesse had attempted to humiliate or degrade everyone else in Glee, and even before her self-discovery forced on her by Santana regarding her failures as captain, Rachel understood just how much those actions of the Senior Plus had caused her friends (FRIENDS!). She had a girlfriend whom treated her better than all three of her boyfriends combined. 

Jesse St. James was after one thing and one thing only: his own advancement. She learned this when he first “attempted” to help the New Directions, but ended up spying for Vocal Adrenaline, her mother specifically, and did everything they could to hurt them. Hurt her. Rachel choose to forget him, and happily so, especially with the summer going as it had. She let him back into her life and, once again, hurt by him. This was not the time to be made a fool, not when things were going so well. 

“Rach-“

“My name is Rachel,” She took another step back. He followed. 

“Fine, Rachel, baby-“

“I would like it if you refrained from using any pet names either.” The hallway was clearing out, and she knew she had class to attend. “Now if you excuse me, I have class.” Rachel tried to walk by him, but a hand gripped her elbow and pulled her into his space. 

“Babe, seriously, just-“ 

“Let go of me.” She shook now, and her body wanted to react. But violence was not the answer. And she had already been suspended for fighting once this year, tarnishing her perfect record. 

“What is with this hostility?” he asked, laughing, as though her pain, her friends’ pain, was something to joke about. Was he really this blind to how he had hurt them, her? Had she been on this self-absorbed path?

“Let go of me, St. James,” she repeated. 

“I just wanted to talk.”

“And I don’t.” Rachel stomped on his foot, as hard as she would stomp the floor during any diva rant, pivoted, and walked away.

Why? Because fuck Jesse St. James. You do not murder a bunch of chickens and roosters, and get away with it. 

Fuck him and fuck whatever wind was up his ass that made him decided he should even fathom speaking to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So due to both nanowrimo and Macroeconomics, these three updates I’m putting up[Dirty Paws, Invisible, and They didn’t have the words] took a bit longer than I wanted. Dirty Paws will have the shortest chapter I’ve done in a while, mainly because I felt it ended best there, and what’s gonna happen in the next chapter doesn’t really fit with this one. But anyways.
> 
> I actually am finding a plot within this. Hell, in the next two chapters, besides the Faberry relationship progressing a bit, I am gonna further what I started. 
> 
> Sadly, I do not own Glee, or else Robin Thicke would never ever have been considered as an artist for the show to sing to. B/c fuck that guy.
> 
> Because I can,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone was shaking her, and Quinn was not amused. She started to growl, the vibrations growing within her chest and escaping out of her mouth, when fingers started to scratch her neck. The growl transformed into a soft purr, her body trying to arch into the nails. “Sweetie,” Rachel whispered into her ear, the warm breathe sending a shiver down her spine. “We’re here.”

Nov. 26th

Someone was shaking her, and Quinn was not amused. She started to growl, the vibrations growing within her chest and escaping out of her mouth, when fingers started to scratch her neck. The growl transformed into a soft purr, her body trying to arch into the nails. “Sweetie,” Rachel whispered into her ear, the warm breathe sending a shiver down her spine. “We’re here.”

“Fivmiutes,” she muttered, but curled towards the voice, only to be stopped by a seat belt. 

“You’re so lucky that you’re cute,” Rachel replied. The hand stopped, and Quinn wanted to start growling again. “A, I just gave you five more minutes since you didn’t want to be woken up yet, and two, we’re here and Dad wants help with all the luggage and food we brought.”

“Rightz,” Quinn said, “Foosz.” Food sounded amazing at the moment. Maybe. Sleep was certainly more comfortable. 

“So wakey, wakey.”

“Eggs and bacon, and maybe cream and coffee,” Quinn replied. She stretched as much as she could in the Berry’s SUV, but it was not enough. At some point she would need to fully stretch her spine and probably pop any number of her joints, but maybe then she would not feel as stiff. Pun not intended. “Then, I will see about waking up.”

“Quinnie,” Rachel said. She turned and looked at her girlfriend. Damn pout, damn big eyes, damn sad face. Especially since she wore her thick parka with mittens. It just led to more of the adorable sad animal thing she had going, and that always worked on her. 

“Okay then.” Quinn unbuckled herself and climbed out to see Hiram opening the trunk and unloading the various bags that they brought to Rachel’s Grandma’s for Thanksgiving.

Quinn had Thanksgivings before, often with her birth father’s family and or business partners, where she was expected to be seen and never heard. That she was just another trophy for him to show off, maybe a tool to barter for some position higher in his world. There was no such thing as arranged marriages for Fabrays but that did not meant there were not encouraged coupling. 

But this, this family, the Berry’s had welcomed her fully into their lives, and while Quinn enjoyed the time spent with her mother, she also enjoyed that they wanted to see her as much as her actual family. Quinn knew that at some point there would be a family meal between the two families, and given her mother’s acceptance of lesbian relationship, it should not be as horrible as it could be. Maybe sometime near Christmas, especially since Hanukkah was around the same time. 

“I will take hers,” Quinn said. She walked to the back of the SUV and joined Hiram in the process of removing the massive amounts of luggage. 

He looked down at the set of four pink bags. “You sure?”

“She does pack a lot.” Quinn smiled up at him, grabbed her single duffle bag and threw it over her shoulder before gathering up Rachel’s and bringing it up to the doorstep on one trip.

Grandparents Berry lived in a smaller version of an English Country House in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. It should have been a farm house or something, by Quinn’s best estimates, but here was a wonderful creation of sweat, blood and tears from wood, steel and brick. Red aged brick walls held up a large sun-faded roof, with white faux-marble welcoming the world inside. 

They left early in the morning, like five am early, which was just as bad as not sleeping, on a bitter cold November day. The only reason why Quinn even made it to the car was the smell of a piece of bacon that Rachel led her by and then she had to be buckled in. She was not ashamed of this. It was their fault she had to be awake at such a time that should not even exist. Six hours later, of which she slept through them all, Quinn found herself in Virginia, maybe, and it was colder than before. She was not exactly paying attention to the location. 

Rachel stepped next to her and nuzzled into her side, the faux fur tickling her chin. “I’m cold, can we go in?”

“Sure, sweetie,” Quinn said. “Just ring the doorbell, and hopefully someone will let us in shortly.”

“Or,” Rachel reached out and opened the door, “We could just go in.” 

“Rae, that would be rude.” She dropped her duffle bag and grabbed her wrist. 

“Kitty.” She dropped the wrist right away and looked down. Her shoes were at least clean, she had remembered to grab decent Chuck’s before she left home. That was something.

Rachel lifted up her chin, smiling at her as she stepped closer. “Kitty, I understand your apprehension, but trust me, okay? This is my family. It’s okay to be a bit relaxed and informal. We can just enter.”

Quinn shook her head. “I cannot just…my rules and my manners, Rachel, I-“

Rachel kissed her softly on the cheek and leaned back into her. “I know, Quinn, I know. Just follow my lead, and I’ll make sure that you aren’t too far out of your comfort zone.” 

She looked back down to her shoes. Her black jeans were somewhat clean, maybe she should change into-

“Kitty, look at me please,” Rachel said. Quinn sighed, but kept her head down. They were not in a private area, in fact her parents were behind them, and yet she was using her pet name for her more and more often when Rachel was saying words just for her, or to get her attention, or anywhere. And she was not upset by it, but it was a bit unnerving how easily Rachel commanded her. Her tiger-self was even okay with it, and that part of her never wanted to be controlled. “Quinn. Please.” 

“Everything okay, Star?” Hiram asked. 

“Yep.” Quinn heard the Broadway-smile in her voice. “Quinn felt it was polite to ring the doorbell and wait.” The chimes rang on the other side of the door, and dogs. Two large dogs with big feet from the sound of it. Quinn had not smelled them, which hopefully meant they were nothing more than guests and had not claimed the territory, but still. Dogs. 

An elephant came bounding out of nowhere and slammed into the door, quickly followed by another slam. Quinn stepped back, her grip tightening on her bag and she nearly dropped Rachel’s collection. 

“Quinn?” Leroy asked. “You okay?”

“I am not… I mean, I have never really,” she started to reply, but the door was thrown wide open, and Hiram caught the two dogs as they tried to escape. She did not know breeds at all, but the chopped off tail of the black short-haired one was wagging as fast as it could, and its mouth was open with its teeth slightly bared. The other one was shaggy and goldish-brown, and its tail was wagging even fiercer, almost like it would take to the air in given moment. Quinn stepped back a bit more. 

“Stark, Banner!” A gruff voice boomed from the other side of the door. “Why’d you use the damn bell, you’d know that they’d freak out about that.”

“Poppa!” Rachel shouted and stepped through the doorway into the embrace of a tall, tall black man with bright white hair. The wrinkles on his face were smoothed away as he embraced his granddaughter, and Quinn felt a twinge in her chest, a brief dull pain, and she looked back at her feet. Hiram dragged the dogs back inside and Leroy followed him in. She did not move from the porch. “I missed you.”

“How is my wonderful little Star,” he asked, spinning her around. “My you haven’t changed one bit. Still beautiful and music packed inside such a small frame.”

“I am well within the average height parameters of girls my age.” Her grandfather set her down slowly, his smile wide on his face. Rachel stomped and crossed her arms, glaring up at the man. 

“Well, in this family, you’re tiny,” he said with a laugh. “Hiram, my boy, so good to see you.” He hugged what she assumed was his son, though both him and Hiram had tinged skin, so she was not quite sure. 

“And Leroy, you look as healthy as ever, my son keeping you fit and everything?” Hiram laughed and gave the man a one armed hug.

Quinn watched as the four of them interacted from the doorway. She shifted a bit, though was not uncomfortable with the gear. She was much stronger than people assumed, and while she could stand there for hours if need be holding hundred pounds of luggage, she did not want to watch the family. She missed her mother sometimes. Things had been strained, even with her accepting that she was more similar to Judy Fabray than she would have liked to be believe. That she was kicked out does that to a relationship, even if they were trying to repair it.

“And who’s this?” Rachel’s grandfather stepped towards Quinn. “Quinn, right?” She fought the urge to step back, but barely. It was irrational for her to be afraid, really, she was an alpha tigress who could crush trees with a swipe of her paw if she wanted. That portion of her never came up. But these were people, and people were strange for her. Lima, she knew how to deal with people, she had a presence. Here, in Virginia, she had no idea who she was. Here, a stranger stood nearly a foot taller than her, and was built like Puck was yet he had to be seventy years old. Here, everything was new, and nothing really taught her how to prepare for it. “My star warned me that you were beautiful, but her words apparently did not do you justice.” 

She looked down and away. Maybe the dress would have been better. 

“Be nice, Poppa,” Rachel said. She stepped around the large man and into Quinn’s personal space. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” Quinn said, her voice was barely above a whisper. The dogs barked and she tried her best to remain still. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Of course, of course. A friend of Rachel’s is a friend of ours.” the grandfather replied, waving her in. His words said welcome, but his tone said be wary. Quinn stepped into the foyer filled with oranges and golds of thanksgiving and harvest. “Do you need help with those?”

“No, thank you, sir,” Quinn said. “I would like to know where I could put Rachel’s luggage for her, if that is alright.” He raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded and led her down the hallway to a door that lead to the basement. Rachel stayed behind, petting the dog. Quinn felt her eyes on her back. 

The basement was well furnished and finished. A bit chilly, but it would probably warm up. She found the backroom that Rachel’s grandfather indicated, built off to the side of a large entertainment room. The bed was a simple twin, made up with dark brown and light orange sheets and pillows. The walls were a simple pale, off-white, and the single lamp in the corner that stood next to a cherry dresser gave enough lit for her to work. Between the wall and one side of the bed there would be enough room for her to curl up in. She brought a blanket and a tiny pillow. Her body heat would be enough to keep her warm, even in a basement. Quinn was more worried about Rachel. 

She dropped her bag where she was going to sleep, and carefully placed Rachel’s luggage on the bed. School was always kept dreadfully warm, so she continued to wear her adorable short skirts that teased her every day. And Quinn drove her home with the heat blaring. But most Rachel was okay. On Tuesday, she came in freezing, and she had to wrap the diva in an extra sweater she had forgotten she had in her locker. When they hung out that night, before Quinn left to get as much sleep as possible, Rachel was bundled up in two sweaters, an electric blanket and wool pajamas and socks. At the time it was adorable, but lying in her bed, the thought worried her.

“Quinn?” She turned around and looked to see Leroy in the doorway. “You okay?”

“Yes, I am fine,” she replied. “I thought Rachel could use another sweater if she is as cold as she was yesterday.” He nodded at her, letting her return to digging through one of the carriers for the thickest sweater she hid in there, ignoring Rachel’s protests.

Leroy moved a carrier and sat on the bed. “I know Judy before she got married,” he said, pulling her hand away from the bag. He moved very slowly, and made sure that Quinn could watch his movement. 

Quinn did not say anything.

“Went to school together and all that,” he continued. He lightly traced a circle with his thumb on her wrist. “She was my best friend, in fact.”

“Mother never talked about you.” Rachel was probably getting colder, and she needed to find the sweater.

“I know, we had a falling out.”

“Over what? You coming out?” 

Leroy laughed. “No, no nothing like that. She knew it before I did. It was her coming back with her boyfriend from college.”

“My…” Quinn swallowed and nodded.

“At the time, she thought the world of Russell, saw him as this strong and direct man, a good man, so much like her father. Did you ever get to meet your Grandparents?” 

“They died when I was little. Frannie did, I think.”

“He was a very good man, very loving. And at the time, Judes thought the same of Russell. But I saw something different in him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Quinn asked. 

“I know things were difficult for you at home,” he replied. Quinn looked away quickly, pulling her hand to her chest. Her tiger-self wanted to sink away and hide in a corner, but her feet did not move. “When I met him, I knew he was more like my old man than hers. I knew exactly what he would do, what his and hers life would be like. The bigotry and hatred didn’t surprise me. The power and control didn’t surprise me. It didn’t surprise me when I heard from a colleague at the firm about how your sister left the state once she graduated and emancipated herself. I just hoped that you would be okay.”

“Why do you care?” Quinn said. He was not related to her, he was not family or anything. His family was upstairs, in a room that full of life and sound and warmth. Quinn’s was nowhere to be found. Tigers lived alone, she had told herself that would be good enough for her. 

“Because, despite what you did to my daughter,” he said, “Despite the pain you caused her, and don’t believe me that we don’t know, that everyone upstairs knows, I knew better than anyone what you went through.”

“He never hit me.”

“He didn’t have to.” Quinn nodded. “You don’t always have to hit someone, Quinn, to controll them. And I’m not sure if that’s worse or not. At least when you’re being beaten, you know it’ll be over.”

Quinn squeezed her hands, trying to grasp a thing to hold herself up. But the bed had no headboard to hold her up, and the luggage would make a poor base. She would just have to remain on her feet. 

“Just let Rachel take the lead and just follow her. I know it’ll be uncomfortable, like it was for me when Hiram brought me home the first time, but trust her. You’ve come a long way from that girl you were.”

“Took only getting pregnant,” she said and laughed weakly under her breath.

“Took me getting put in the hospital,” Leroy replied. She looked back at him, dropping her hand from her chest. “Don’t tell Rachel or Hiram, they don’t know. Happened during high school and everything, before I left that house and I met Hiram.”

“Daddy?” Rachel said from the stairs. “Do you-“

“Everything’s good down her, sweetie,” he shouted up. “Just helping Quinn get your things settled. We’ll be up shortly.”

He stood up and took a step toward Quinn. She was afraid he was going to hug her or something.

Santana and Brittany had made her accustomed to physical contact, and it was easy to transfer that to Rachel. But with males, with tall and fit men, she still felt a bit awkward. The worst of it was that description did not match her fathers. She dated Finn and Puck and Sam, Lord, had sex with Finn and Puck, but it was always uncomfortably forced on her end. She forced herself to do it because it was what was expected of her in some way. 

With her girls, it was safe and warm and welcoming. With Santana, the touches were protective, even with her being the strong and fast one, the tiger in human form. With Brittany, they were comforting, when she struggled to stay in control of her emotions. With Rachel, they were freedom, breaking down everything she had thought she had to be. Hugs and shoulder bumps, gentle caresses of their hands. Everything was nice. The exact opposite of what she felt with the boys in her life. She was not a prize or a trophy or an object. She was Quinn with her girls. And some part of her was worried that Leroy would be like the other males in her life.

But he was not. He just offered a soft smile, reached into one of the carriers and pulled out a thick knitted sweater with a large orange cat on it. “I think our Rachel would like this one, don’t you?” 

Quinn nodded and took it from his hands quickly, faster than she should have in public. But Leroy gave no indication that it mattered. She held it close to her chest, eyes focused on the bed and the luggage. “You come up when you’re ready? Kay?”

“Can…” she swallowed, “can you ask Rachel to come down here? I just-“ a lie could not form on her lips.

“Sure,” Leroy replied. “She does have a lot of cloths, always over packs, so you’ll need all the help you can get.” He walked out of the room, leaving her standing over the bed and squeezing the sweater. The door to the rest of the house slammed shut and little feet scurried down the stairs. A few second later, Rachel was wrapped around her, her face pressed against her back. 

Quinn did not know how long they stood there, or why her face was so wet, or why her throat bothered her so much. Rachel just sang softly to her, some song that she could barely hear, and rocked her back and forth. 

!-!-!-!-!

Leroy sighed and leaned against the door. His daughter had thrown it open and shut, and the dogs had come to investigate, but they merely sat in front of him wagging their tails with big doggie smiles on their faces. 

He hadn’t lied to Quinn about his life prior to Hiram, prior to meeting the Berry’s. James and Kathy were wonderful people, accepting him just as quickly as they did their son. It was a turnaround from his traditional family and their antiquated beliefs. And they were very protective of who they viewed as their family. Especially Kathy. 

“Everything good,” Hiram stepped into the hallway, holding a champagne flute. He always started drinking early on the holidays. Preparation for the large family that would arrive soon. 

“As good as it can be, I guess,” he replied. Leroy petted the dogs on their heads as he walked past them. They didn’t follow him, just kept vigil on the door. “Bit overwhelming for her. What with family and things like that.” 

“Well, I guess it’s good that Ma isn’t home yet,” He said. Leroy nodded and took the drink from his husband’s hand and finished it. James and Kathy knew about Quinn and her previous role in Rachel’s life. His daughter had no real filter, and the family had grown accustom to her oversharing, including the terrible things in her life. Like the bullying from school by the Unholy Trinity. While Hiram kept his parents up to date concerning their lives, Leroy knew that Kathy would have a grudge against Quinn for all the pain she put her granddaughter through. 

“Yeah, at least James was too floored by her appearance to say anything too foolish.” They started to walk to the kitchen, where James would be preparing his pies for tomorrow.

“Like his son.” Leroy smiled at his husband, letting him step into his space.

“That was one time, and Rachel has forgiven me already for embarrassing her.” 

“True, but you didn’t have to go on and on about how beautiful she was, did you?”

“One time, and they never let it go,” Hiram said.

“Never let what go?” James asked. He had found himself an apron, frills and lace and pink littered it, and had been rolling out some dough. 

“My husband’s monologue on how Rachel had befriended the beautiful Quinn. The worst part wasn’t that Rachel was jealous, hell, she joined in and they started on her bone structure and everything, and the two just went on and on about her.”

“Then what-“

“Quinn doesn’t like to talk about the way she looks,” Hiram said. “Another one of Rachel’s friends, Brittany, called us out on it after Quinn disappeared from the kitchen.”

“Oh,” James said. Whether he was sorry or not, Leroy couldn’t tell. Hiram went to the orange juice and champagne to make them more drinks. “Rachel seems rather smitten with her, doesn’t she?”

“Well, Star would use the phrase in love, but yes, that’s about right,” Hiram said. “Dad?”

James shook his head. “Doc wants me cutting back and all. Do you think it’s healthy?”

“To be in love? She is at that age.”

“To be dating one of her abusers.”

“They hashed that out early this summer, Dad,” Hiram replied. He handed Leroy a drink and moved to the island. “It’s not like Quinn is forcing Rachel in this relationship or anything.”

He held up his flour-covered hands. “I’m just looking out for my only granddaughter. Can’t blame me for worrying. Besides, I know better than to talk about this in front of her at least.”

“True,” Leroy said. “Kathy is gonna grill her, probably guilt her about it, not that she needs any more guilt about the whole situation. Or worse even. What with her home life and everything.”

James nodded and let go of the rolling pin. He braced the edge of the marble counter top and breathed out slowly. He was aware of Leroy’s relationship with his parents. He also knew enough about Quinn from Rachel’s constant talk about her the three previous years to have an idea of her personality. Some things aren’t innate. Something’s have to learned to deal. “He never touched her, James,” Leroy replied. 

“She tell you that or-“

“I trust Quinn,” Leroy said. “I trust her with my daughter in every way I can, even though the thought of my little princess growing up terrifies me. If she says it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen.”

“Doesn’t mean-“ 

Hiram stepped around and touched his father’s shoulder. “Dad, we know. Part of why we were okay with her and her friends entering our house.” More Leroy than his husband, but nevertheless it was true.

“She’s so proper and polite, it’s been drilled into her, hasn’t it? How to act around people, how to make herself barely seen and never heard.”

“Quinn had most of her life planned out for her and-“ The door to the garage slammed open and a squeal from an older woman echoed through the house.

“My boys, my wonderful boys are home at least,” Kathy said, rushing into the kitchen and wrapping Hiram in a tight hug. She was a contrast of her husband: short and pale white skin with platinum blond hair that never greyed according to her. “Oh it’s so good to see you.”

“Don’t lie, Ma,” Leroy replied. “You’re just happy Rachel’s here.”

“Shush you,” she pulled back and smiled at her son, taking his face in her hands. “Still handsome as ever. You’ve barely aged. I only see a few wrinkles this year. Though a bit grayer.”

Hiram laughed and kissed his shorter mother on the forehead. “Yes, well, the girls are a bit wild and tend to drive him crazy.”

Kathy turned around and smiled at Leroy. “And you, why you haven’t changed at all. Still a picturesque man, and with color in your hair. My, aren’t you just a sight.”

“And still jewish,” he replied, smiling at his mother-in-law. She walked over and gave him just as tight of hug as her son. 

“We can’t all be perfect, can we?” Kathy stepped away and looked around. “And where is my beautiful granddaughter, I would have expected her to be in here with you, talking up a storm already.”

James looked up at Leroy over his wife, raising an eyebrow. “She’s in the basement.”

“Why would she-“

“She’s with Quinn.”

Kathy went still. Leroy had heard enough of the conversations Hiram had the previous week with his mother to know that she did not care for the blonde, in any way, shape or form. That a bully would never be welcomed in her house, that someone as cruel as Quinn could never deserve a wonderful girl like Rachel, that she was the devil and would get what was coming to her. Took an hour, but his husband was able to persuade Kathy to let Rachel bring her girlfriend. “Oh. Well, that’s nice, I guess.”

“Ma,” Hiram said. “Rachel adores Quinn and-“

Kathy waved her hand in the air, refusing to look at him as he tried to define Quinn. “Probably stockholm syndrome or something awful, have you had her looked at, just to be sure she isn’t being manipulated and controlled? I’m pretty sure that she would be capable of it, given all that Rachel said, especially after that whole babygate thing. What kind of girl would do something as horrible as lie to one boy about who the father is? She cheated on her boyfriend, of all things, and then tried to get out of the whole thing, playing them like puppets.”

Leroy snorted. Despite whatever spin Rachel put on her stories, Kathy had walked away hearing only the negative of the Unholy Trinity, which she took to be a literal descriptor. 

“I still can’t believe that she brought that…that…”

“I could leave if that what you would prefer, ma’am,” Quinn said. Leroy turned to see her standing perfectly still, and Rachel wrapped herself around her completely. The dogs sat at both their sides, and he was sure they were glaring at Kathy. “I am sure that it is possible to find a car service or something and-“

“No,” Rachel said, stomping her foot. “This is the first time that I’ve even wanted to bring someone here and you are not going anywhere. And if she can’t stay, I’ll…I’ll…” she swallowed heavily before looking up at her girlfriend and giving her a weak smile. “I guess I’ll go with her too.” 

“Rae, no.” Quinn’s voice was drowned out by the rest of the family. Particularly James’ cry of shock. Even the dogs joined in at the sound of Rachel leaving. Leroy said nothing. He watched as Quinn stared, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, tears in her eyes, not at her leaving, but that someone would join her. He watched as Rachel returned a sad smile, not because she would leave, but that Quinn would leave for her. He watched as Kathy just glared at them, at Quinn, for daring to take her granddaughter away. Sometimes, people had the wrong priorities, even if they thought they were doing the right thing. 

His husband whistled and everyone looked at him, except for Quinn. Leroy looked back quick enough to see her still looking down at Rachel. “Rachel is right,” Hiram said, finally, cutting through the commotion. “Quinn is a guest just as much as anyone else, Ma. It is not your place to judge or condemn her.” He didn’t look at his mom, and Leroy was never as proud of his family as that moment.

Kathy said nothing. She glared at Quinn. Leroy gave points for the blonde though. She returned the glare with just as much intensity, and had position Rachel slightly behind her. There was no need for the full defensive posture, but he found it endearing that she would keep Rachel safe from all sources, even family. After a moment she just nodded and walked out of the room. 

“I am sorry for-“ Quinn stared after the woman, but Rachel placed a finger over her lips. James returned to his pies, and Hiram decided to help him, leaving the girls alone to talk. Though Leroy was more than happy to ease drop. 

“You are here because I want you here, because you are family to me just as much as anyone else,” Rachel said softly. He frowned at that thought, though it didn’t surprise him. Quinn was important to Rachel, and while they tended to spoil her, both of them knew that she would remain in their lives as long as their daughter wanted her. Rachel fell hard and deep when she found something she cherished; that part of her had nothing to do with what she was falling for. Broadway was the best example, until the blonde and her friends realized how wonderful a person Rachel really was and befriended her, until Quinn started to date her and returned that devotion. 

He kept watching as tears started to form, but with a simple blink, they were gone and mask of calm and peace was on her face. Rachel frowned briefly before nodded and leaned up to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, I’m sure Poppa could use more help with his cooking, especially since he cannot cook a vegan recipe to save his life.”

“Just don’t see the point in slaughtering those poor defenseless vegetables, dear,” he said with a smile. He also nodded at Quinn, smiling at her. “Come, Quinn, you can help me with the natural and right way of making a delicious, true, American apple pie. Butter and bacon fat.” Rachel stomped her foot and glared at him, only to earn a laugh from Hiram. 

“I would love to, Mr. Berry,” she said. 

“Please, as Rachel has seemed too stated, I do believe you’re in for the long haul, whether you want to be or not, so Poppa is perfectly fine.” Quinn’s smile widen slightly, before it slipped back beneath the mask. 

“Thank you.” Hiram stepped back as Quinn moved next to him. Whether James understood that she was thanking him for letting her stay, for getting to know her, for accepting her, or even just trying, it didn’t really matter. Rachel smiled as her grandfather and her girlfriend worked together on something simple as making a pie, sharing a conversation about the upcoming football games, before gathering some breakfast with her Dad for everyone.

!-!-!-!-!

The day was trying for Quinn, especially after the brief outburst in the kitchen. While Poppa had decided that she was okay, or at least was willing to get to know her, Mrs. Berry had already decided who Quinn was. She returned from wherever she disappeared to, changing into what looked like a more comfortable and warm skirt and long-sleeved shirt, and she started to prepare dishes for the next day. She had been willing to talk to everyone, but Quinn was a non-entity as far as the woman was concerned, during lunch and everything. She stepped around her and went about her business. Which was fine, she guessed, though Rachel was ignorant of it. 

The Berry’s home was more spacious than Quinn realized, but it was nothing like the open and empty building she lived in when her birth father lived with them. After the divorce, her mother received the house, but they never really felt comfortable in there. Quinn knew her mother was waiting for her to graduate to sell the place and purchase a smaller home, something for the two of them, or her and her significant other once she found someone.

After dinner, they retired to a large living room, where Hiram had started a fire, and Rachel curled up next to Quinn, despite Mrs. Berry’s desire that she sit next to her. She knew the diva was cold, even with the extra sweater on and seated next to the fire, but she could not do anything about it, even it was something as simple as touching her lower back and letting her feel the heat from her body. 

Rachel talked most that time, sharing stories and events from the year so far, sparing nothing, including their brief parting as Quinn struggled with herself and her own desires. At least she held back the fact that a tigress was sitting in the room and her sometimes present extra appendage. The story of Halloween was the same one they gave the Berry’s when they brought her home that morning. 

Mrs. Berry was excited and asked questions in the right places so Rachel could go on and one, into a rant regarding Mr. Schue’s failings as a choral director, but since they had no one else, he was suffice. 

The strangest thing was how Rachel’s grandparents were interested in Rachel talking. Quinn was used to the rambling and the long winded paragraphs that she spoke in, but to see someone else who genuinely cared about all the details. With her friends, she never spoke this much, not any more really. She was almost normal teenager, but then, Quinn suspected it was a learned trait. Rachel never really interacted with many people, and did not have friends to really talk to about her life, so having a family member listen was something she cherished and loved. At least now, she had Santana and Brittany as well. And Brittany adored the ramble-speak. 

Hiram stood up and looked at Quinn, then tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen. She nodded at him. “Quinn and I are gonna bring some coffee and hot chocolate in, sound good?” He asked. Rachel offered her a gentle smile and a squeeze before she left her, even if it was willingly. 

The kitchen was disconnected from the living room, enough that Quinn realized no one would really hear them talk. Hiram started to remove cups from various cabinets, taking what were probably favorites given the different sizes and decorations. He started a kettle of water and a pot for the coffee before turned to her. “I’m sorry bout Ma,” he said. 

Quinn shrugged. “She is only trying to protect her family, especially from the big bad cheerleader.” She could not really blame the woman, not after the years of hell and torment that she put Rachel through. 

“She still shouldn’t have said those things though,” he replied. 

“But that does not change that she thinks them,” Quinn said. She leaned against the corner and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“No, no it doesn’t.” Neither spoke for a bit, which was fine with Quinn. She just listened to the conversations down the hall. They may not be able to hear anything from the kitchen, but she could hear most things in the house. At least the dogs remained in living room. They were okay, she guessed, but mostly were under foot whenever she stood up or tried to move around. And too big for her liking. She had not even felt that comfortable around the were-wolves, despite the fact she hung out with them in the beginning of school.

“I know I deserve it, really,” Quinn said, keeping her eyes on the hard wood floor. “I am not ignorant of what I have done to Rachel, not now especially.”

“She’s forgiven you,” he replied. 

“I have not forgiven myself,” Quinn looked up at him. “I do not think I will. But she has, for some strange reason, and let me be in her life, especially this role. I thank Him for that every day.” 

“One day you will,” Hiram said. “I have faith in you.” He turned back to the cups, arranging them and filling them with whatever strange things that people enjoyed, including her green tea with a dash of vanilla and honey. Rachel must have reminded him at some point. 

“Do you,” Quinn swallowed and tried again, “Do you forgive me?”

“You make Rachel happy,” he replied. “Happier than she’s ever been.”

“That does not answer the question.”

“I know.” So that was a no then. Quinn nodded and turned to leave. The kettle went off, and Hiram quickly made all the drinks, but he did not look at her. “I don’t want you to think that you are not welcomed in our house, Quinn. You have done so much for Rachel, and have been such a great influence in her life.”

“But you do not forgive me,” Quinn repeated. She half expected him to try to argue, but cut him off before he could say anything else. “It is okay, as I have said, I do not deserve it. That Rachel does, even if she will never forget, will have to be enough for me.” 

She left the kitchen and headed to the living room, and paused in the doorway. Mrs. Berry had moved to her seat next to where Rachel was supposed to be. She was talking about how horrible Quinn had treated Rachel, and how this was all some terrible trick she was performing, that it would only hurt her granddaughter, and she was not going to stand for it. Leroy said nothing. Quinn had hoped, in some part that had not really existed until the summer, that this would be different, a better holiday, even if most of her knew it would be the same emotions anyways. That it would be the same in a different way. Fabray gatherings were about showman ship and one-upmanship. It was about showing off how perfect and wonderful and fake everything was. Quinn hated them. 

Rachel had seemed so hopeful, and it bleed over into her. But the greeting from Mrs. Berry, the reminder that she had hurt someone who mattered more than anything to her, that the two men in her life, despite her reservations and fears, had opened their home for her, welcomed her, had not forgiven her what she did to their daughter. Rachel returned from the bathroom, sat down, and then looked surprised to see Mrs. Berry sitting next to her. At least the verbal truth had stopped when her girlfriend entered the room, Quinn guessed. 

She schooled her features in the perfect daughter she had learned so long ago and walked behind the couch that Rachel was curled up in. Quinn leaned down and kissed her cheek. As she stood back up, she offered her best smile to the remaining people, sweet as she could make it, just like she was with the Fabray’s. “I am sorry, but I think I am going to go lie down. Rachel had me wake up early, and that is never a good thing with me.”

Rachel turned around fast enough she might have given herself whiplash. Leroy said nothing, but just looked at her, while James was confused. Mrs. Berry did not look at her. Quinn nodded and walked out, stepping around Hiram as he walked back in, balancing a tray. He gave her a questioning glace as she continued to basement.

Despite being fully finished, Quinn was not surprised that the temperature had not changed from early. She did not turn on the light as she stepped through the soft carpet into her room. It was a matter of thoughtlessness to change into sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, then to curl up into a ball in the corner, wrapped in her blanket. 

She dozed lightly, and at some point, a light turned on and she shifted to bury her head in pillow. Quinn just wanted to sleep, and nothing was really going to stop her. Eyes stared at her for a bit, then moved on. Zippers and shifting cloths before the light turned off and the bed squeaked behind her. A hand stretched down and scratched the back of her neck. Quinn did not move. She just returned to sleep.

At another point, sometime later, the bed shifted again, and the footsteps padded over to her. She turned over and opened her blanket, where a shivering body quickly moved into her embrace. The comforter settled over them, and Quinn pulled the body even closer. Hands slide under her shirt and frozen feet touched hers. A soft snore vibrated her chest, and Quinn slipped back into dreamless darkness. 

!-!-!-!-!

Nov. 27th 

Quinn woke up to nothing. The room was dark and black and cold. Very, very cold, though only outside the little nest they had made. They. She looked down and found Rachel curled up in her arms, face buried into her chest. She felt hands up her back, and feet interlocked with hers. Sometime during the night, she had come down from the bed and joined Quinn on the floor. Rachel’s breathe felt very cool against her fur, even under the comforter and blanket she had. 

Fur? She blinked away the sleep, and her tail shifted in the nest, almost exposing them to the cold, but a wiggle and a shift, and they were bundled up again. Her ears darted about, twisting a bit as she tried to focus on one thing that mattered the most to her: Rachel’s gentle snore. 

She hated holidays. Hated them with a fire that only was dwarfed by her anger her first couple years of school. Every year, no matter what, she was alone, despite how many people there might be around her. Fabray events were held with the purpose of showing off how wonderful people were and how horrible you were in comparison. Her father performed well, ensuring that Quinn, despite whatever praise he gave out, was always left with the knowledge that she was not, never would be, as good as she should be. At least, that was when he was sober for those times. The door to the upstairs opened. Over the years, until he disowned her, her father drank more and more, her mother joining him in. At least she avoided Quinn when she was drunk, her father just made his anger known in regards to his only daughter, as far as he was concerned, and her actions and why they would never be good enough.

The winter was the worst. What with Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s all within a month of each other. Her father made everything that she could fix and do better known to her, even if she had heard it all just the holiday before. Even her uncles from the Fabray-side liked to give their opinions regarding her, especially when her father prompted. The women never spoke at this gathers, at least while the men were around; they just served or looked pretty. 

Rachel shivered and she tightened her arms around her girlfriend. 

Quinn had thought that, despite being alone physically this year, it would be better. No one would have at least told her how much she had failed, even if they tried to hide it in praise. The third step from the bottom creaked. Her mother wanted to go see Francine, and as much as Quinn wanted to go, and it was not that much, she knew it was not time for them to reconcile yet. They had said some things, a great deal of them, when she left and she had not forgiven herself for saying them yet. Her mother said it was not her fault, but really, she was the one who thought the the words, she was the one who felt them, she was the one who spat them out at her only sister. Even if it was just rhetoric parroted from her father. 

Rachel tried to curl in deeper. Quinn shifted them until she was the new blanket for the diva. 

Things were supposed to be bleak for Thanksgiving. That was how it was always. And then Rachel brought a sliver of sunshine. A simple request and things had changed so rapidly, she barely held on as the Berry’s pleaded that Quinn be allowed to join them to her mother, brought across country after being woken up at an unholy hour, and welcomed into a home that was not her own. 

Except she was not.

Poppa, no Mr. Berry, she told herself. Mr. Berry had already started to speak the same way the rest of her relatives did whenever they saw her. Leroy, Mr. Berry, she corrected, had tried to help, he really did, and it was sweet. But she did not want pity or sympathy or anything really. Something softly, barely existent, scratched against wood. Mrs. Berry had confirmed what she had always believed, even if she knew the woman only said half of what she felt, and then Mr. Berry just confirmed what she knew about them, about Rachel, about her. 

Forgiveness was for the faithful, the worthy, the just. And she would never be forgiven. Rachel was blinded by some strange thing Quinn had yet to figure out, but everyone else knew the truth. 

She was a monster. That was what Mrs. Berry called her, called her actions against Rachel, called her personality. A beast of anger and fury and rage. Lucille Quinn Fabray was barely human, and it-

The door opened, and she did not move from her spot over Rachel, just tightened her grip and readied to attack whoever got close. The growl formed slowly in her, and she felt her fingers tighten and lengthen, the pain of the nails ripping through and around her finger tips as they grew into claws. 

Mr. Berry, elder, leaned down and placed something next to the door before kneeling next to it and fiddling with the cord. She focused onto it and in the pale light saw a small heater of sorts. He plugged it and started it up before standing and looking into the room. A frown formed on his face. He pushed open the door a bit wider, though paused as the light covered them.

Quinn pulled the comforter over her head and hunched down, willing her ears and claws and tail and fur away, as fast as she could. Heat rushed out from her, and Rachel sighed against her, though pulled her closer. Once she felt a tad bit more human, at least in form, Quinn pulled the blanket down from her head. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, though he did not have to. Quinn heard him coming down the stairs, though barely remembered ignoring those details. “Didn’t mean to wake you?”

Quinn could not form words, despite her mind being wide awake. “Whaztymizt?” She muttered into Rachel’s hair.

“A bit after seven,” Mr. Berry said. “Forgot how cold it got down here. We forgot to give Star this last night.” 

Quinn wanted to sit up and look at him, but the heater had not done enough to warm the room, to warm Rachel up yet, for her to feel comfortable enough to move from her grip. 

He was telling the truth, in a way, she figured. Her hearing was not the best in complete human form, but enough for her to hear that slight hitch when he said the last sentence. “Mrs. Berry forgot to give it to me, you mean,” she replied, speaking slowly to make sure every word came out. 

Mr. Berry said nothing.

“Despite Rachel’s desire for me to be here,” Quinn said. “I think it would be best for all parties that I just leave.” She did not want to it, but she was making everything difficult for everyone. Mr. Berry struggled to find his words around her, and Mrs. Berry clearly disliked her. Mr. Berry looked at her with some pity and sadness (Quinn wanted neither), and Mr. Berry just did not desire her presence, only tolerated it for Rachel’s sake. If four people found it unpleasurable to be around her, then how would a houseful feel?

“Dear, why do you-“ He started to speak at a normal level, but stopped. He stared at her, as though he could read her, but Quinn had flattened any expression she had, any emotion she might have shown. “Come up stairs, and at least have something to eat before you go.” Mr. Berry stepped away from the doorway, but held it slightly open for her. 

Quinn debated about not going upstairs, about just packing up and leaving, or staying with her girlfriend until she woke up and at least telling her. Rachel was snoring softly, and she did not want to pull away from her. But the tone was enough like her father’s to tell Quinn that it was not a request. That if she was going to leave, she would have breakfast with them.

She took her time, making sure that the comforter and her blanket never pulled off of Rachel, but eventually, Quinn stood next to the bed. She adjusted a strap of her tank and shifted her sweats so they were at least center. Her eyes never left Mr. Berry’s. 

He just nodded and walked away, leaving her to follow. She looked down at Rachel, who pulled her arms and wrapped them around herself, hugging the air that she once resided in. Quinn pulled the remaining sheets off the bed and covered her up the best she could, hoping that kept a bit more heat in for her diva. 

After a minute, she was satisfied enough that she walked away, only giving a glance back every other second or so. It would have to do. Quinn hoped to be at least in a taxi to somewhere she could find a way home before Rachel woke up. That way she could not see the tears in her eyes. Quinn did not want to see hers either. 

Upstairs, the house was a bit warmer, but not by much. Everything was painted through a pale, grey hue, muffled by the lacey-shades covering the windows. A light hung down the hallway. She walked smoothly across the frozen wood floors, stepping over the pair of sleeping dogs. One stood up as she walked by, the black furred one, and followed her, a step behind her. Quinn kept looking back at it, but the dog simply offered a soft smile. She guessed that was its expression. 

Quinn walked into the kitchen, where Mr. Berry was sitting at the counter, reading “Return of the King” and Mr. Berry walked over to the stove-top, preheating some pans. Bacon sat open on the counter. She fought the urge to eat it raw. Barely. 

“Quinn,” Mr. Berry closed his book and stepped toward her, opening his arms. She stood still for a second, only moving when she watched the frown on his face. But she did not enter his embrace, rather she stood a few feet away from him, but more in the kitchen at elast. And closer to the bacon. He lowered his arms slowly. “Sleep well?” Quinn did not return the hug. 

“Enough,” she replied. 

“Rachel okay?” Mr. Berry asked.

“When I left her,” Quinn said. She watched as Mr. Berry as he pulled some bacon off and threw it into a pan. “The heater will help, I believe.”

“Yes,” Mr. Berry looked up from the stove, “My wife said she was taking care of it, and I figured she knew that at least Rachel was down there.” 

“So, it would have been fine for me to be cold?” Quinn asked. It was not a fair question to ask, and maybe a bit insolent, but it was all she had left. This place was no for her. Just as the Hudsons, or the Jones, or Puckermans, or anyplace really. There was no home for her. Just buildings she slept in. Before either man could respond, she continued. “Really, I do appreciate that you have let me be part of this holiday family experience with you, but I think I am going to leave today, before anyone else arrives. It is fine. I understand. I am the one who tormented your granddaughter and hurt her more than anyone else has. I am the one who made her life hell and so, it is fine that you do not-“

“Quinn,” Mr. Berry said. She did not want to go, really, it was not her main choice, but she would not cause any more problems for Rachel. They could make their relationship work, she figured, it would not work today, or that week. Maybe Rachel was wrong in thinking that she should be here. She could stay, be warm and with a family that wanted her, and Quinn could go back to what she was her original holiday plans: either sit in her room alone or run in the woods alone. Maybe that was all she was mean to be, alone. If she could not get along with her family, why would Rachel want her around? 

“I understand because I am the reason why she was so isolated and alone. Me. No one else caused this or did anything to lead to it. Santana and Brittany were just following orders and-“ Mr. Berry took a step forward and she took another step back. “And I was doing it because I wanted to. So please do not take it out on them, I am sure that the both of them would love to continue to hang out with Rachel and, I-“ she swallowed and stepped back again. Her face was wet, and her hands shook. “I just need to know that she will be fine with them, so please just tell her that-“

Mr. Berry tried to embrace her, but Quinn ducked and stepped back again, right into the edge of the doorway, inches from the dog. He had no reason to comfort her. She was the one who did them wrong. Quinn realized that now. To hurt one member of a family, was to hurt them all. In a way, she wished she had that. Her father did not care if she hurt, even if she worked herself so hard that she cried from the cramps he just said to suck it up and do better. So she did. Her mother never spoke up against anything, sitting there in silence as he commanded the room and attention, no matter how long it took, even if they had to wait for dinner, even if she had to miss dinner for whatever reason. She was trying, they both were, but neither erased what the eight years without her sister brought upon her. She had no family, just relatives. 

Rachel had a family. Rachel had people who welcomed her into their arms no matter what she did, no matter how much she hurt. As long as she was their daughter, she was accepted. As long as Quinn succeeded, she was tolerated. “Thank you for the offer of Breakfast, but I need to-“

“Quinn,” Rachel whispered, stepping up from behind her and wrapping herself around her waist. She had the comforter over her shoulders, enveloping her. Quinn brought her arms down and gave a gentle hug, then tried to move away, but the diva would not allow it. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I cannot stay here, Rae,” Quinn said, swallowing deeply. “It is… Rae, please, understand that… I need-“ Her words failed her. Everything tasted wrong in her mouth, even with bacon so close. The tigress needed freedom, she needed to get away from everything. Tigers were loners by nature, and yet Rachel refused to let her follow that. And her tiger-self loved that. But now, now when others made it perfectly clear why she should be alone, she was not allowed that.

“You can go for a run,” Rachel said, her words breathed on her bare shoulder. “Anyway you need, free as you need. But you come back, you hear? That is not an option kitty.” Quinn nodded. “I need words, kitty, promise me you’ll come back.”

“But I-“

“Things will be better when you do. Above all else, Lucille Quinn Fabray,” Rachel kissed her shoulder, pressing her lips against her for a long pause. “I love you and I want you here. If nothing else is important, if everything else is hurting you, I promise I’ll keep you safe and protected. Just remember that. Just remember I will always be there by your side, keeping the world from you. Me and you.” 

They had not said the words yet, or at least, not really meaning them. High school was so strange, and things were accepted in ways she did not understand. Quinn never said them, she could not. Not to Rachel, not until she was sure that her girlfriend understood how committed she was. The past two days, hell the past twenty hours, Rachel had made two statements of how she was in it for long run. 

Rachel wanted to stay with a beast. The tigress wanted to shake free and run even faster. Quinn wanted this, she wanted it so badly, yet Rachel was saying the words out of desire to keep her there, maybe she did not really believe them and she-

“Words, Quinn,” Rachel whispered. “If you can’t promise me anything, just promise that you’ll come back so we can talk.”

“I promise,” she said, and brought one of Rachel’s hands up to her mouth, kissing the back of it softly. Rachel let her go and Quinn ran out of the room, out of the door, into the subzero morning and quickly transformed into her tiger-self, running into the empty field.

Because tigers did not cry when they were not welcomed. They just accepted it and moved on.

!-!-!-!-!

Rachel understood, in a very basic and simple way, that Quinn was dealing with a lot of things. Though she never said anything, her girlfriend’s home life was not the best, especially before she got pregnant. Things got better, in a strange way, and yet she was still the same head-cheerleader looking for approval, unable to actually be Quinn. 

She leaned her head against the doorway molding and sighed, pulling the comforter tighter around herself. Waking up to somewhat warmth but alone was not a fun thing for her. Rachel liked that Quinn had accepted her so easily and pulled her in tight, letting her be the electric blanket that she normally had. She knew that her girlfriend had left at some point, when things had grown slightly colder, but the whirl of the heater kept her in a mildly hazy state that Rachel didn’t quite realize that she was still sleeping on the floor and that Quinn and left her. 

For as long as she could remember, Rachel loved Thanksgiving. Any holiday really. She loved seeing the Berry family, the wide amount of faces and people. They accepted her, quirks and all, let her be part of the games and play and laugh with them. The holidays were time for family and joy and songs and smiles. They were a time to forget everything that was happening at home and just be. She had friends, of sorts, within her family, and it was nice to be normal in a way she didn’t have at school, at home. But the Unholy Trinity tried to give her that this summer, succeeded in fact. And then Quinn let her in, stole her heart and held it so tightly that now, when she needed to run away, Rachel was unsure of what to do. What was going to happen? 

She wanted to scream and yell at her family. Her dad and Grandma, but the only person to really blame about this whole situation was herself. Rachel hadn’t expected to find a great friend in Quinn, to fall in love, yes love, so completely and fully, that she was going to lose herself in her if she ever left her, which she wouldn’t, part of the many reasons she had put in her list as to why it was acceptable for her to love Quinn Fabray. She expected to have a tentative, but open, pseudo-friendship where they were no longer antagonistic towards each other. So, she told many of the stories that she had told so freely at home about how the girl was a bit of a bully and liked to pick on her. She never went into the full details, but her parents knew better, and they probably shared it with her grandparents. No, the only person to blame for Quinn’s alienation was herself. 

Now, Quinn had run out the door, away from her, when Rachel had thought that she had finally gotten her girlfriend running towards her. But it wasn’t really away from her. It was away from her family, away from family in general, but mostly her family and how they did not want her around. That was a truth that she needed to accept. In her joy of bringing and showing off her girlfriend, Rachel had forgotten all that she had said about her and how her Grandma would react. She had forgotten about how different this was going to be from her normal holiday. She had forgotten to warn Quinn about the noise that was going to be around, the energy the life, the laughter, how these things were going to be so different from her previous years. Quinn promised to come back, and Rachel would have to trust that promise. 

“Star?” her Daddy said. Rachel leaned up from her spot and offered the best smile she could. But it was probably hindered by her tears that had leaked out at some point. “You okay?”

“We can’t let her go out there,” Poppa said. “She’s barefoot and those cloths aren’t going to-“

“Quinn will be fine,” Rachel replied. “I promise.”

“Star, she’s practically naked in that outfit, as far as winter is concerned, I refuse to let that girl freeze because of this whole mess.” He took a step forward to Daddy caught his arm. 

“Quinn has a spare sweater and boots in our car, she knows the code to get in.” That was a lie, her daddy lied for her. Why would he do something like that? “She’ll be fine. She just needs space, I hope.”

Poppa nodded, though was clearly unhappy about the whole thing. Whether it was Quinn running out or what caused her to think that she had to leave, Rachel didn’t know. 

“Star,” Daddy asked, He stood in her space now and looked down at her, a weak and sad smile on his face. “Seriously, is she going to-“

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. She moved into his chest and arms automatically wrapped around her. “She’s not used to this. Family stuff, and all, not with her sperm donor.”

“Sperm donor?”

“Santana’s term.” Rachel smiled and pulled away. “It is one of the more generally tame names she has for Quinn’s biological father.” Daddy nodded. 

“Sorry, Star,” Poppa said from the counter. “I didn’t think that she’d be so…”

“Skittish?” Daddy offered. Poppa nodded.

Rachel sighed and stepped over to the island, taking one of the stools and sitting it. She took a moment and wrapped the comforter tighter around her. It was warmer upstairs, but without Quinn, even her presence, and the knowledge that her girlfriend was safe and comfortable, she just felt colder. “The adults in her life had been somewhat lacking for her. Men in general, really.” She didn’t want to go into Quinn’s past, not any more than was truly necessary. Her desire to talk and ramble disappeared out the door with the tigress. “Most people have seen her for one thing or another, used her for that, and lately, the consequences have been getting worse and worse.”

Daddy sat next to her and rubbed her back. “You know that we care about her right?”

Rachel wanted to snort, but fought it down. If they did, they would not have driven her off. 

“Your dad has just inherited his mom’s protectiveness, that’s all,” he continued. “He likes her, both of us do.” 

“Yet not enough to want her here,” 

“What did I tell you the day she brought you home? That as long as you want Quinn around, want her with you, she is always welcomed where you are.”

“Then why not here?” Rachel wiped her eyes. “Why not with my family and with us, where she could at least see what we are like and how happy it is and how much fun it is? There are songs, Daddy, songs! And she didn’t get to hear them because we drove her off.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Poppa said. He pulled the pan off the fire, turned it off and walked over to them. “You of all of us did nothing wrong. I know Leroy here at least tried to comfort her, give her something to keep her with us, but I’m afraid that it didn’t work.” 

“I tried to tell her bout my pa, Star,” he said. Rachel understood. She never met Daddy’s parents, mainly because they didn’t speak any more, and wished him and his husband and their daughter to burn in hell for their sins. “And how your Dad’s family welcomed me with open arms, but then-“

“Grandma spoke up about how Quinn hurt me. Yeah, I figured something like that from our conversation last night.” Rachel leaned into her father. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Daddy. She was supposed to wow you all with her smile, her laugh, the joy she brings. She was supposed to be so happy here. I was happy she was here.”

“But how can a person be happy when they are so uncomfortable?” Poppa sat on the other side of her.

“We made it that way,” Rachel replied. She leaned down on the counter, her forehead resting on the cool marble. 

“Not you,” Daddy said. “The rest of us? Some more than others. And when the rest of the family arrives, it’ll be a bit more, but then again, they don’t know as much as Grandma and Poppa, here.” 

“Your father told me, sweetie,” Poppa added.

“Told you what? When?” Rachel sat up quickly, turning fast enough and dropping her comforter. Her daddy had no right in giving Quinn’s secrets away. It wasn’t a secret per say, but no one talked about it, because she didn’t want them to talk about it. 

“It wasn’t much, but enough for me to get a better picture.” Rachel glared at him. “Star?”

“I will not have you psychoanalyzing her when she is not here,” she said. “I’d prefer if you didn’t at all, but clearly as my father happened to already tell you more about her then she would like, I know you’ve already formed another opinion on her solely on what she has done and has happened to her.”

“You can’t deny that our past shapes us, that it helps form the basis of who we are, how we deal with the world and perceive it.”

“I can when you are doing it to someone who has not asked you to,” Rachel crossed her arms. “Quinn has enough to bear, enough judgment on her from everyone that she doesn’t need any more.”

Her grandfather nodded and walked away, back to preparing breakfast for the family, well for everyone else. Rachel honestly didn’t care what he had to say, what opinions he brought from his profession. It didn’t matter, mainly because she felt that Quinn wouldn’t want them. Sure, it was her choice to make to tell Poppa and Daddy more than they knew, more than she knew, but Rachel learned never to push her, never to force her out of her comfort zone too quickly. At least this weekend, she was supposed to support her and offer her that comfort, but Rachel had gotten lost in the family dynamics she was used to and abandoned Quinn to her own defenses. After a day.

Her daddy just smiled at her, gave her a one-armed hug and returned to his paper. Poppa would finish breakfast, and Grandma would come down at some point, waking Banner, and joining Stark in the kitchen, moderately begging for a bite of whatever was being made. Soon, the rest of the Berry Clan would show up. And while Quinn would return eventually, she promised, she didn’t know when that would actually be.

!-!-!-!-!

Apparently, Quinn wouldn’t return until after the rest of her extended family arrived and packed into the medium sized home, after they sat down for the meal, after games were played, songs were sung, and laughter was, well, laughed, she guess. In fact, Quinn didn’t show up again until it was well in the night, after her most of them had left, and she retired to the basement. 

Grandma noticed Quinn’s absence, and while she didn’t say anything directly bad about her, she did mention that her leaving was probably for the best, which didn’t help Rachel’s mood. It was evident that she was unhappy, at least her dad, daddy, and Poppa. Dad tried to talk to her a bit after her Uncle Andy’s family arrived, all six of them, but she stepped away and joined her little cousins, scooping up Cindy and laughing with them. She saw him speak with her daddy and the subject was promptly dropped. 

Poppa attempted to corner her in the kitchen as she helped prepare the vegetables and soups for the first course, including her vegan options, which he was actually decent about and really didn’t need any help. He was worried that she was gone as long as she had been, but Rachel didn’t really respond, other than say that Quinn was safe and it was fine. Even Grandma said something after dinner when desert was passed out and the board games were being played, and people were laughing and joking about. Everyone but her. She was present, but her mind was out with Quinn, running and racing in the cold. 

Daddy didn’t say anything. Rachel appreciated it, even though she knew he wanted to. He wanted to offer whatever words of endearment he could, anything he could do to comfort her that Quinn wasn’t around. It wasn’t enough. Some of cousins had heard that she was supposed to have brought someone and they wondered where that someone was. Rachel lied to them, because they wouldn’t have understood the truth, and then told their parents and things would have gotten a bit messy with the game of telephone. She said that plans changed and her friend wasn’t able to make it. 

The younger ones asked many questions about her friend, while Uncle Kenny’s twins, closest to her in age, asked if it was a boyfriend. Apparently by the face she made, they understood her response without ever saying anything. Her uncles and aunts didn’t mention it, or anything really about her social life, and Rachel was happy, no content, with that. She talked of school, of glee, of her role in the play, of her college dreams, of everything except her friends and her girlfriend. 

After the late lunch, early dinner was served and they all separated to do various things, after five o’clock rolled around, Rachel accepted that Quinn would not be showing up as long as the majority of her family was present. It hurt, but not necessarily that she was left alone, but why she was without her girlfriend. The only reason Quinn would stay away from her, the only thing that made sense whenever she remained far away this year, was that she was under some strange notice that she was protecting her. In this case, Quinn was letting her enjoy her family time without having to worry about the unwanted friend who should be in attendance, but clearly wasn’t. She was wrong about that, but Rachel at least knew why. 

Some aunts mentioned her mood, but Rachel just gave her Broadway smile and changed the subject quickly. It worked well enough to drop it then and there, but she saw the glances and the frowns. She ignored them. 

The holiday simmered down, and Rachel watched and clapped and smiled as everyone performed but her, which clearly was a bad thing, and gave her many stares and glances, but no one said a word. Most of her aunts and uncles had already talked to her fathers, and whatever they told them would be all they got. She didn’t want to talk about it. 

The worst thing about Quinn’s departure and Rachel not getting to show off her amazing girlfriend was that she was cold. She stole a cheerio sweatshirt from Quinn’s duffle and wore it, she was left with an endless chill that sat just beyond anything she could do. Rachel was exhausted and tired, and after the stupid Jesse issue, now she was left alone to think of all that had gone wrong, and it didn’t help her being cold. Most of it was simply psychosematic, but she didn’t care. Rachel was cold without Quinn. 

The room was warmer now, and as much as she wanted to curl up where Quinn had slept the night before, the ground was hard and would be colder without her girlfriend, so she settled for stealing her blanket and wrapping herself up in the scent of wilderness, freedom, and loneliness. 

Ten o’clock, her phone said, and it was nearly pitch black in the basement bedroom. She stared up at the ceiling and debated about throwing it at the wall, though Dad would not have been happy with her considering. Over fifteen hours without seeing her, without hearing from her, and now she was wide awake because of some stupid fear that her tiger girlfriend was hurt and injured and-

“Hey,” Quinn said.

Rachel didn’t scream, she had that much control, but she did jump high enough and far enough to fall off the other side of the bed, flailing and dragging both Quinn’s blanket and the comforter and the two pillows with her. After a moment of reorganizing herself and getting situated, she knelt up and looked across the bed at her, then reached offer to the nightstand and turned on the light.

Quinn was naked, or at the very least topless, and knelt on the other side of the bed across from her. She was covered in spots of dirt and mud, but no real injuries that Rachel could see. The worst of it seemed to be her bloodshot eyes. Any sign of the tiger was gone.

“Over fifteen hours,” she said. She didn’t move.

“I know.”

“You missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and worst of all desert.”

Quinn just nodded. 

“You missed the games, the laughter, and the songs, Quinn,” Rachel said. She wanted to stop her foot. “The songs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” She sighed and crawled up, back onto the bed, dragging the comforter, pillows, and blanket with her. It too a moment, but she was seated up against the headboaard, legs covered in all of the blankets, and moderately less cold. “I am.”

“You are not the one who left.” Quinn didn’t move from her spot. Rachel had a decent view and if she shifted just a little bit, could star at the naked perfect breasts before her. She held herself back. 

“No, but I may have as well forced you to,” Rachel replied. “I’m not having this conversation with you groveling at my bedside. That’s for play time or when you screwed up majorly, like insulting Barbara or making fun of my nose.”

“It’s a cute nose,” Quinn said without a smile.

“Thank you.” She patted the spot next to her. “Come, kitty. I want my bedwarmer.”

“I see I still am wanted.” Any other day, it would have been a joke, but now, it was a question of their relationship, all parts of it. Rachel wanted to cry, not because Quinn was questioning her devotion to it, but that others would be so harsh and judging on her that she had to wonder at her being accepted. Quinn climbed up slowly. Part of Rachel was jealous that she was so comfortable with her own nudeness that it didn’t even register on her that she was naked. This was not playful Quinn, she had seen that version before. This was sad, defeated, and lonely Quinn. That was most of sophomore year. And it hurt to see that Quinn back. 

“Quinn, I will always want you,” she said. Quinn didn’t respond. She just resituated the various blankets until she was curled up next to Rachel, head on her lap, letting the diva thread her blonde hair and scratch her slowly. 

“Kay.” Wasn’t the response she was expected. Rachel didn’t expect her to return with her undying love, or even a stammering of some confession, but indifference was something new for Quinn. There was at least distain or deep longing in her voice usually, maybe happiness when she was with Rachel and their friends. 

“Use your words, kitty,” Rachel said. Quinn nodded in her lap, but said nothing for a while. She just continued scratching the back of her neck and head, hoping that the small comfort would give some peace to her girlfriend.

“The last holiday I actually enjoyed was when I was nine years old and Frannie was still living at home. Dad was not home yet, some business meeting that was more important than us, and Mom was still sober,” Quinn said. “We had this eight foot tall Christmas tree, and Frannie and I got to decorate it, my Mom watching us and laughing with us as I got messy from the glitter and fake snow.”

“You must have been an adorable nine-year old.” Her other hand took up the job of playing with Quinn’s hair, running nails up and down her scalp, threading the fine, blond hair. 

“I have always been pretty.” It wasn’t the same thing, but Rachel knew it was the closest to getting Quinn to talk about her whole appearance issues. Now was the time for her girlfriend to speak whatever had bothered her enough to send her running for fifteen hours. “Frannie brought this massive box of decorations for us to use and she was so excited about it. I was so excited about it. She was doing most of the decorating, I was simply playing with the garland, wearing it like a feather boa and acting like a princess. At point, she picked me up and sat me on these boxes, called it my throne, and then asked me where I wanted the ornaments. For the next hour, she let me command her, letting me make believe that I was actually a princess.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Rachel said. 

Quinn smiled into her lap and turned into her legs, burrowing a bit further into her. Rachel felt her speaking for a moment, the tremors echoing up through her, but she heard no words. She didn’t stop scratching her back, or running her fingers through her hair. She would speak when she was ready. 

At some point, Rachel thought that Quinn had fallen asleep, she almost dead. But she turned back around, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down so that she was laying on her. Rachel shifted amoment, getting comfortable, and rubbed her chin against Quinn’s bare skin. She watched as Quinn stretched slightly, never letting her go, and pulled up the comforter with her feet. The entire time, she tried to be a good girl and not think about how her body bent and stretched and curved with such a graceful move, keeping her eyes on Quinn’s face and neck. Really, she tried. But her girlfriend was so hot.

The comforter settled over them, and Quinn pulled her close. Rachel wrapped her arm over her stomach, tracing a patternless shape on her smooth skin. “I was so proud of our work. When Frannie was done, she came over to me and stood next to me, covered in glitter and fake snow. The tree was beautiful, so many colors and lights, different ornaments of types, sizes and shades filled it, so much so some limbs were bending under the weight. A star hung on the highest bough. I did not recognize it. It was not something we owned prior to that, but it was gold and bright and had these little lights all around it, blues and greens and purples and reds. My god, it was so beautiful, Rae. Our own little wonderland. Frannie told me about the North Pole, and all how it was this magical place and the lights danced in the sky with as many colors as on the tree. And how Santa would step outside and look up and smile, just as we were smiling, because it was so stunning. It was magic, and I believed her.”

She swallowed and leaned down to kiss her hair. Rachel kissed her neck and pulled her tighter to her. “My father came home. He found us in the den, laughing and joking, a complete mess. Something must have gone wrong at the office because the first words out of his mouth were to scream at me for sitting on those bins. He then screamed at Frannie and I for making a mess, for our poor haphazard job of the tree, that it would never be acceptable to show such a horrible and ugly tree. He pushed Frannie down as he walked into the den, and then pulled the tree to the floor. The strings of lights shattered, along with dozens of bulbs of blues and greens and purples and reds, the round ornaments in pieces on the floor. Glitter and fake snow floated down, covering us. My mother said nothing.

“He just screamed and yelled and broke every last decoration that Frannie brought home for us, for me. Frannie just kept standing in front of me, keeping her body between my father and I. She screamed back at him, called him so many names, and he returned it so much, quoting scripture and citing the most important thing: what would our friends think.”

Rachel was trying to ignore the hitch in her voice, the quiver every once in a while. She tried hard. But in the end, she just reached up and wiped the tear off of Quinn’s cheek and snuggled back into her.

“In the end, Frannie left slamming a door and running to her room. My father slamming another and demanding that the mess be cleaned up, and my mother walking away to go find a drink, the first of many to come. I just sat on the tower of boxes, afraid to climb down.”

Quinn sighed and rolled into Rachel, pulling her closer. She felt every curve of her, the way she easily fit into the girl, her head fitting just under her chin. She also tried to ignore the perfect set of breasts pressing against her, but damn did they feel good. “After finally getting down, I went to bed. In the morning, a new tree was set up, perfect in every way. I hated it, but said nothing. Frannie glared at it, and walked away. She never came home from school afterwards, she just left for the winter semester and I never saw her again. My mother started drinking, and my father did not really change. I have not had a tree, a real one, in a long time. That my last holiday.”

Rachel stretched up and kissed her forehead, letting Quinn curl into her, letting her hold her for once. How often had she actually been held? Someone who wrapped their arms around her with no reason other than to give her comfort. 

The worst thing about Quinn crying, and she was, because Rachel’s shirt was wet, was the lack of sound. She never made a sound, and her shoulders barely moved. Rachel just pulled her tighter, and Quinn gripped her shirt harder. 

Right now, the important thing was that Quinn came back to her. She ran away, sorted out whatever she needed to, and came back, even if everything wasn’t better. And she opened up about something that was destroyed for her, and maybe she could bring it back.

Rachel wanted to tell Quinn about future, about the many Christmukkah they would have together, the trees, because each year there would be at least two and there’d be a competition, they’d decorate together, the presents exchanged, the nights spent together. The songs they’d sing. Songs! And Santana and Brittany would come before and they’d cuddle together and watch horrible movies, and Santana would force her to watch horrible horror movies and Quinn would save her, they’d bake cookies for Santa and then sit in front of the fire, waiting for the morning to come. Sitting together. Rachel wanted to tell her so many things, things she wanted very much, and she knew that Quinn wanted them, maybe, hopefully. 

As Rachel started to feel her heart beat slow down, and everything grew quiet, she knew that sleep would find her very quickly. But she could have sworn she heard a whispered “I love you” though it was probably just wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, damn… this is long. Longest yet. I kept trying to end it, but Quinn, damn that girl, when she wants to speak or has to do something, damnit, she will do whatever the hell she wants. And I’ll let her. Because she’s Quinn. 
> 
> Anyways, switching up some stuff. Invisible is gonna take a bit, simply because of me struggling through some mechanics of writing sex between a group and making sure that at least its not “She put item A into Slot B. It was hot. Enjoy.” That doesn’t sit with me. Faberry Week: The Sequel starts next week, so I’ll be working through those prompts. My bro made the challenge of me writing a fic or series of oneshots using the titles of an album, the result being “direct hits.” So yeah, a lot of things going on. 
> 
> Insert Shameless plug, and go read my many other works, feed my review addiction, any comments, remarks, criticism or suggestions are always welcomed, and of course, enjoy. 
> 
> Because I can,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some point during the night, Quinn had gotten up and dressed. She returned to Rachel, wrapping her tightly and curling into her, even closer if that was possible. They were facing each other when she fell asleep. The only reason why she even knew any of this was that some asshole had turned on the light at an ungodly hour.

Nov 28th

At some point during the night, Quinn had gotten up and dressed. She returned to Rachel, wrapping her tightly and curling into her, even closer if that was possible. They were facing each other when she fell asleep. The only reason why she even knew any of this was that some asshole had turned on the light at an ungodly hour. 

Brightness filled her world, even muffled by her closed eye lids, and Rachel tried to pull Quinn completely over her to block it out. But it wasn’t worth it; she was awake. While her girlfriend had the tendency to be catlike and constantly wanted naps and sleep in, and Rachel felt that she should barely have any because she need to get so much work done, their roles had reversed this week. Quinn was so on edge and barely slept any, and Rachel couldn’t get enough. Though it still took a decent amount of effort and time to wake her up. Quinn slept hard and heavy, never moving or shifting in the bed. Rachel could find no time between sleep and consciousness, and it was rather annoying, given how easily she woke herself for being too cold. 

The biggest issue on her mind was finding some way to tell Quinn that Jesse was back. She knew that her girlfriend would be afraid of losing her to the super-senior, but it was a baseless fear. Quinn had made a comment about Rachel being so cold all the time, and for the moment, she had been able to pass it off as being busy and overworked, which prompted a brief request/command that she slow it down a bit. But, now with them on a small vacation of sorts, there was no need for it, and it was showing.

Stupid circulation reflecting her mood. Rachel hated being so expressive.

“Star, Quinn’s apparently decided it was a good idea to run away, and we need to go search for her, the ungrateful child,” Grandma said, throwing the door open and flicking the light on. Rachel pushed her barely aware girlfriend off of her and sat up. Quinn grabbed her waist and pulled her tighter to her, hiding her face behind her back.

“What time is it?” Rachel asked. She reached down and scratched the back of Quinn’s neck. Grandma paid no attention to her, rushing over to her luggage and began to dig around her cloths. 

“A bit past one,” she replied. “Your grandfather is demanding that we-“ She stood up and stared at Rachel, her eyes slowly looking down at the body lying next to her.

“She came back already.”

“That girl had your grandfather, your parents, freaking out. How can you be so accepting about this? She left you and-“

“She came back,” Rachel said. 

“I still don’t know what you see in her, she’s clearly caused nothing but strife in the family and-“

“She is here,” Quinn muttered into her back, but it was loud enough to stop whatever rant Grandma was on. Rachel wiggled against the warm breathe on her back just above her ass. “And she appreciates not being talked about when she is in the room. She would prefer if you did not talk ill of her at all, but after yesterday, well two days ago, she knows that is not an option." Quinn sat up slowly, her medium length hair a mess and hanging in her face. Rachel pulled her close, trying to keep her a bit behind her, but this was not Quinn any more, at least not her Quinn; the girl next to her was no longer heart-broken and hurt by the words and actions from Thanksgiving. The HBIC had arrived and would make sure that they knew their words would never receive a reaction from her again. That she would never show how much they hurt her again. Rachel hated this girl. But it was one of Quinn’s responses that she needed to function and deal with everything that failed to live up to her simple expectations. Everything hurt her. 

“What the hell do you have to say for yourself?” Grandma yelled. “Running out like that, leaving everyone to worry sick about you. How dare you be so selfish that you leave Rachel like that, especially when we were so kind to let you.”

“No one even noticed,” Rachel said, her words barely leaving her mouth. Quinn just stared back, no expression, no movement. Just cold eyes. Her girlfriend had locked away her emotions, because once again, they had hurt her so much. Indifference had returned.

“We welcomed you into our home, fed you our food, and you run away, discarding our kindness that my husband I had given to you with a childish tantrum all because of-“

“She was never welcomed,” Rachel said a bit louder. This time, Grandma stopped speaking, her eyes turning to her. 

They didn’t speak. Instead, the room was silent, just looking at each other: her grandma surprised that Rachel actually spoke back, eyes opened and jaw slightly open; Rachel looked with determination to protect the girl who had treated the worst and best she had to experience, the one who choose her and wanted her for who she was, without any desire to change her; and Quinn just stared, still in a way that unnatural. 

“Kathy?” Poppa said, his voice carrying down the stairs. Footsteps trampled down, many of them, and a bark from Stark followed. “You get Rachel up yet? Quinn’s not back yet, and we’re gonna need everyone we can to find her and-“

He stepped into the room and stopped moving when he saw the pair on the bed. Poppa was wearing his winter coat, thick gloves and a silly looking faux-fur hat covered his ears. “Quinn?”

Quinn said nothing. She kept her gaze on Grandma. Rachel shifted a bit uncomfortable under all the attention, which she normally loved. Just not the silent variety from her end. At least if she was preforming, then she had a purpose. Now, she didn’t know what to do.

“You’re okay? When did you get back? We were worried sick and-“

“No,” Rachel said. “Maybe you were. Maybe you, Dad, and Daddy, but honestly, I think you were all more worried about me and my response to Quinn’s disappearance. Grandma didn’t even notice until you told her, until Daddy brought her up, and even then she said nothing.”

“Star, that’s not entirely fair,” Poppa replied. “We all were-“ But paused in his words, the lie fizzling out. He looked away from Rachel and over her shoulder, to where the current Quinn statue was. “I’m just glad you are okay.”

Quinn shrugged. She wasn’t okay, Rachel knew that. But it would be for all appearances that she was. “I will be out of your hair, as I was yesterday, until Misters Berry want to leave.” 

Mister? When did Quinn start referring to her parents as mister? When had her girlfriend started to revert, at least in front of others, into the girl she was at the beginning of the summer. This was not right. “Why would you do that?” Rachel asked. “Why would you leave again?” But she knew the answer already. Quinn felt that she was hurting Rachel’s relationship with her family. Quinn felt that she was hurting her. Again. 

“Quinn, no that’s not what we want,” Poppa said. “Rachel invited you here and we accepted because know it’s important for her.”

“If you are trying to guilt me, please do not. Rachel will do a good enough job tomorrow, when we go home,” Quinn replied. 

“You are acting like a child,” Grandma said, nearly spitting the words out. “You are playing the victim and wanting us to pity you, yet you’re the one who isolated my granddaughter, hurt her for how many years? Five, six? Middle and high school. Systematic targeting of her and trying to break her.”

“No one feels as horrible as I do about that, Mrs. Berry.” Rachel reached around Quinn and pulled her close, pressing her flat against her body. She was tense, every muscle steel underneath her touch. “Nothing you can say, or do even, can erase the knowledge that I have hurt the one person who…” She trailed off, and she felt a tremor pass through her, short and weak, small enough that Rachel only was aware of it because she felt it against herself. “As right as you are, as much of a reason you have to hate me, I accept that now. I do not have to be an unwanted burden.”

Rachel wanted to speak up, wanted to say something. She hated that she had divided her family over Quinn that they were arguing and fighting really, even if it was limited and often passive-aggressive. It was her fault. This was not what she wanted Thanksgiving to be about. 

“Kath, dear, let’s just go to bed and we can talk about-“ Poppa walked forward and tried to take his wife’s arm, but she shouldn’t allow him. She shrugged him off and took a step towards Quinn. 

“It was supposed to be nice, simple, fun holiday. Like all the others. We were all supposed to get together and enjoy our time together without anything else worrying us. Same thing as every year. Then Rachel wanted to bring you along. I was unsure at first, mainly because of how you treated her, but I was okay with that because Hiram seemed so excited by it, because Rachel was so excited by it. It was fine, because I would have my family here and nothing really was going to change. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to like to you. Then I met you, and you were everything I thought you’d be. Arrogant, rude, demanding, shallow, fake. Nothing about you is real. Nothing about you is substance. You just are a rude little girl who is demanding attention through dressing like a whore-“

“Grandma!” “Katherine!”

“To control my granddaughter with sanguine false words, with caresses that distract her from everything else but what matters to you. You have manipulated and altered her to fit your needs, your desires, your wants. Because the only person who matters in your small, insignificant world, is you. Because in your eyes, all that is important is you. Damn everyone else.”

No one moved for a second, and Rachel felt that while Quinn was hurt by the words, it wasn’t really anything new, nothing had really changed. It was just an expression of what they both knew she thought. This was something that she would have to do some damage control on, reassure Rachel that none of it was true and that she loved, yes loved, Quinn, and they were past all of that. That if anything, Rachel was controlling her. But Grandma had to speak some more. “I wasn’t surprised when I met you that you weren’t with your family. Holidays are meant for that time, and when Hiram said that you were so excited about coming, I wondered why someone wouldn’t want to be with them. But that became clear the moment I saw you. I saw what they must see every day with you. No wonder you were here, they had grown tired of your whining and spoiled princess mentality. Grown tired of your falsehoods and general hatred you hold in your heart. They must have hated how controlling you were. They must be so damn happy that you weren’t with them. Must have made their holiday. Your father must be so proud of you.”

Quinn stood up and walked out of the room. 

Grandma turned and stomped away, heading to bed presumably. 

Rachel didn’t even realize that she had left until she heard the dogs bark and a door slam. She struggled to get out of the bed, the comforter tangling up her feet, and fell at the foot of the bed. She pushed past Poppa, ran out the door, and scrambled up the stairs. Banner and Stark were at the backdoor, barking madly. Her dads ran in from their hide-a-bed in the living room, throwing their coats on over their pajamas, well her Dad was. Daddy hadn’t changed yet. Uncle Jim and his wife had joined them, looking confused and a bit frightened. She heard feet shuffling upstairs. “What happened, Star?” Dad asked. He took a tentative step towards her. She looked back and forth between her dad and the door. Was there anything she could actually do now? Would Quinn even come back after that?

Rachel tried to hold herself up, though she didn’t know why she needed to. The window on the door grew lower and lower, and her arms refused to allow her to see what she already knew was outside: nothing. No stars, or clouds, or anything existed outside. Quinn would rather have that then be with her family, though Rachel wasn’t feeling that generous with the term at the moment.

At some point, Banner came up and liked the first tears off of her face, and then she broke down, hugging the large animal, and wishing that it was Quinn in her arms. 

!-!-!-!-!

Quinn had not ran far this time. In fact, she had gotten as far as the Berry’s car before sitting down on the frozen hood. Ten minutes after she left, she heard the screaming of her name and the footsteps as the household spread out looking for her. Orders for her to come back and words of sympathy and concern were shouted, but the latter were nothing more than token, she knew that. It was always that way. 

It would be so easy for her to transform and run, just keep running. No one would find her, no one would be able hurt her again. People were nothing but pain. Every time she got close, or wanted to get close, or even just wanted to feel something other than anger or apathy, it ended the same way. With Puck, she wanted to feel special, and he had promised, and it failed miserably. With Finn, she wanted to feel beautiful and loved, and all she got was being pushed aside and discarded. With Sam, she wanted to feel normalcy, everything going back to the non-crazy times in her life, but that ended just as quickly as it had started. 

Mrs. Berry was right: her family hated her. They did not want her. Her father kicked her out because he hated the thought that his daughter would never be what he wanted her to be, that she could never be that perfect, Christian daughter he desired. Her mother discarded her because it was too much work to actually care for a child. And Frannie left her when her father became too much of an asshole, and she tried to force herself into the mold he wanted so badly for her to fit, to become the perfect daughter that Frannie was. Quinn tried so hard to take her place, to be Frannie but better, and it never worked out. It never was right. She never could be what they wanted her to be, no matter what she did. She was never what they wanted in the first place.

Quinn pulled her knees up, close to body. Mrs. Berry was right. She was shallow and callous and demanding and cruel and horrible and did not deserve to live. Every one that she listed off came out of the mouth of the woman, and every one just danced in her head, repeating over and over again. She wanted to rock back and forth, but what good would it do? She would still be those things. Quinn tried so hard to change over the past summer, but for a stranger to see those things, to see her with none of her defenses up and masks on, squeezed her heart and threatened to break her in a way that Rachel could have only done so. 

“Quinn?” Mr. Berry walked towards her. She looked up at him through her fallen bangs. The black man was illuminated by the light of the house. People were still shouting she guessed. When did he arrive, and where did he come from? “I’d ask if you were okay, but that seems like a stupid question.” He smiled at her. She hid her face back in her knees. 

Go away, she wanted to say. Mrs. Berry was right. Quinn was just a horrible, unwanted girl, hell not even that, a thing that did not deserve this attention. Just leave her alone, she wanted to say.

“I have someone on the phone for you,” he continued. Who would even want to speak to her? He held out a device and walked tentatively towards her. “Rachel called her about half hour ago, and it took that long for her to calm down enough to even speak. That was once she was able to do anything but cry and let me hold her.”

Quinn said nothing.

“Sweetie,” she was not his sweetie, “It’s almost four. You’ve been out here too long. If you want to talk we can-“

“You will not have to worry about me, Mr. Berry,” Quinn said. “I will be out of your hair soon.”

Mr. Berry stopped walking, his arm falling to his side. “Quinn, no, what…what about Rachel?”

“I would just hurt her,” she replied. “She does not need me in her life.”

He said nothing. 

“Please, just leave me alone.” Quinn swallowed and pulled her legs closer. It was feeling cold now, finally. The wind chill biting through her body. “Tell Rachel I am sorry for everything that has happened. For how much I have hurt her and her family.” She would find someplace, away from everyone, where they could not be hurt by her carelessness and anger and stupidity. Santana never would have been forcibly outed if Quinn had not been dating Rachel at the time. Brittany would have been happier had Quinn not stopped her from befriending Rachel. How many people would have never been bullied if she was not around? And Rachel, God, Rachel would have had friends and people who loved her more than just her family and-

“Quinn,” Mr. Berry said. “I really think you should take this call.” He was standing closer to her, a jacket in one hand and cellphone in the other. But he was out of her reach, as though she would run if he stepped any nearer. “It’s Brittany.” He held the phone out for her, though she would have to reach for it. 

Brittany, sweet Brittany. Why would she wanted to talk to her? All Quinn had done was caused her pain. If she had been a better friend, then maybe both of them would not have been so scared to come out. She forced her into this horrible role of brainlessness and density, the stereotypical blonde, all because Quinn could not function normally. But Brittany deserved her to at least say goodbye, even if it was over the phone. 

Quinn took the phone from his hand, and Mr. Berry looked down at his empty palm. She should not have moved that quickly, but it did not matter. It would not once she left. Mr. Berry stepped back, though stared at her the entire time. 

“Hey?” she said, her words cracking. 

“Hey, Lucy,” Brittany said. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed away a cry. “Rach called me.”

“I figured.”

“You outside?” Quinn nodded. “Alone?” She shook her head. Brittany didn’t need to hear words, not when she was on the phone. Quinn swore that the girl saw everything she did, and it was freaky when she did a party trick with her on the phone and describing her every movement and what she was wearing. 

“Well then, I need you to listen, and listen well. Can’t have you running away from Rachel, not as long as you’ve been running towards her finally.” Brittany sighed into the phone. “Rach’s grandma brought up your dad, didn’t she? Brought up that you should be home for the holidays, not with some stranger’s family, even though you and Rach are totally married, just not legally, you know, but spiritually, yeah, you know it, so she’s not a stranger to you. Neither are Leroy and H. But you wouldn’t have run if it was just that. You can handle just about anything. But all together anything? That’s tough right?” Quinn nodded.

“So it was more than being called out on that you’re not with your family, who does love you, because Juds is a better mom when she’s sober and I know Frannie is probably missing you and-“

“I do not want to talk about Frannie,” Quinn said.

“Hush,” Brittany replied. Quinn leaned into her knees again, trying to bury her face in them “I’m speaking and you’re listening. Listening doesn’t require you speaking. Now, your biological family loves you for the most part, we’re ignoring your dad because he sucks and doesn’t even deserve that title, but whatever. Your mom and Frannie are decent and they are trying. They’ve just made some mistakes and got lost along the way, and that happens. But your Family, Lucy, your real family, isn’t from blood or anything as disgusting like that. You choose your family. You pick the people who will stand by you through everything, no matter what, and they pick you. That family, those people, we will always be with you. People will come and go from your life, and I know it sucks, but us? Sannie, Rach, Puck, and yes, him, don’t deny that he’s just another little annoying brother you never wanted and just forces his way into your life, and me, we’re with you. We’re with you through everything. You don’t have to be alone. 

“But this isn’t about that, or at least not all of it and we’ll come back to why we’re the most awesome family in the world and you should totes listen to us on this topic, but the whole issue you have with your family and stuff, you know this and believe it, even if only a little bit. The reference to your dad was nothing more than a spark that ignited everything, I bet.” Brittany went silent and Quinn swayed a bit in the window. The house was quiet now, but Hiram stayed out with her. He hadn’t moved from his spot.

“This started with Mrs. Berry questioning your commitment to Rach, right? She questioned the Faberry, didn’t she? She wondered just what you were doing and your hold over Rachel and if, I bet she sounded so certain when she said it, you were playing her. As if all that you’ve done and changed in the past year meant nothing. Your past year where you struggled and fought and tried so hard to come back to us. Lucy, I mean, not Quinn. I’ve always liked Lucy more. You tried to come back and we were just starting to see her again, though she’s extremely shy from being hidden for so long. Rach is bringing you back, and now, someone is questioning your love, and don’t give me that look, because it is your love, even if you haven’t told her yet, towards her, your commitment and reasons for being with her. Mrs. Berry brought down the judgment and you accepted it all. Because you haven’t forgiven yourself yet for everything you did to Rachel.”

“I do not think I can.” 

“And that’s fine, Lucy,” Brittany said. She could hear the smile on her face. “You will one day, but at your own pace and with us accepting you for who you really are with you the entire way. But the important thing is that you’re with Rachel now, and it’s not out of guilt. You’ve always cared about her, and wanted to see her be happy, but happy was a word you didn’t know, not after Frannie left. That word left your vocab and so you had to deal with the words you did know: anger, frustration, impatience, arrogance, indifference. You knew these, and that was your world. Sannie and I helped out, but Rachel gave you the rest of the dictionary back. She has forgiven you, completely, and I know you don’t question it. So don’t question her decisions to stay with you, to be with you, to love you.”

“Cause you and the Hobbs are totally in love and gonna-“ 

“Santana!” Brittany shouted. “I told you to be quiet.” Oh Lord, they must be on speaker phone and the Latina was listening in. She would never hear the end of it, being sad and moppy. Not that Santana would make fun of her actively because of her emotions, but she would ride her hard concerning how she’s handling them. Which was a bit hypocritical, but Quinn was not in the mood for that type of argument. 

“Sorry.” Santana really wasn’t. 

“We’ll talk about your punishment when I am off the phone, but for now, I’m gagging you and-“

“Brittany,” Quinn said. “Not that I do not appreciate this and everything but if you need to take care of something and step back, I can-“

“You hush, or I’ll make Rachel gag you as well. And stop packing, Sannie, we’re not going.”

“But we can be there in twenty minutes,” Santana shouted. Quinn winced, she could almost feel the Brittany-glare. It didn’t come out often, but it was also frightening.

“San, we are six hours away,” Quinn said.

“Only six, scratch that make it ten miunutunus.”

“I said you were to be gag, so unpack right this minute and then kneel in the corner. I’ll deal with you, missy, in a moment.” Quinn did not want to know how that would be even possible, and Brittany was stopping her from hearing the rest, which she should have been thankful for. 

“Brittany, I really do not want to hear about you and Santana’s discipline problems right now,” Quinn replied. She swore the two had just to out kink each other and it was rather annoying how open they could be about. How comfortable they were about their sexuality. She had no issues in expressing her love for Rachel in public, but those two had no shame.

“Well, too bad, you’re the one who ran out in the cold, wearing next to nothing and sat there on a car hood where your ass is probably frozen to it. And don’t start with me or I’ll make sure Rachel gets more than just some cuffs and a paddle for Christmukkah, clear?” 

“Fine.” 

“Now, Is H still there, waiting for you?” Quinn looked up from her knees and saw Mr. Berry smiling at her. He had an extremely thick jacket on, ear muffs, a hat, wool mittens and a scarf in various bright color. “While the cold may feel like nothing to you, the rest of us are stuck with suffering with it. I’m sure Rachel is wanting to feel better about the whole Jesse thing and you not being there is not helping the situation.”

She sat up straight. “What about St. James?”

“Good, give into the anger, Padawan,” Brittany said. “Give into your hate. Let the Dark Side flow through you.”

“We should have never let you watch those movies.” 

“That was six years ago, and besides, you’re the one who begged us to watch them because your father said they were the devil.”

“That is a Happy Gilmore quote, and he said they were filled with sin and promoted the devils work,” Quinn said, sighing. “Brittany, I appreciate-“

“Lucy,” Brittany said. “You can’t keep running away from things that are important in your life. Sometimes, people are assholes, often without meaning it. And quiet Sannie, I can swear, you do it all the time.” 

Quinn lied her head down on her knees again. “It is just-“

“Do you love Rachel?” She asked.

“Yes,” Quinn said. She wanted to hesitate, she wanted to say that they were too early in the relationship, to young, to unsure of everything to make such a statement. That she was too unsure of herself. But part of accepting her tiger meant that Quinn accepted more about her than she had really wanted to. The good and the bad. 

While she could handle a great deal of things, they were all superficial and inconsequential. Brittany was right, as was normally the case. Quinn struggled with emotional overload, good and bad. She struggled with her anger, even with Santana taking the expressive portion for her, that cold, deep rage sitting somewhere dark within her, the tiger waiting and stalking in the jungle. She struggled with happiness, the idea that it will end one day, sooner than she is ready, and end in such a way that it is complete and fully. Brittany smiled for her, laughed for her, when she could not do it. She hated herself, and so many things about her, that her friends could barely give her a complement these days, mainly because she would never believe them. Quinn accepted these things, if only to function with her tiger-self, so that there was no difference between them.

Her tiger-self needed Rachel, just as it needed open space and bacon and sleep and bacon and quiet and bacon. These things were very important to it, and bleed over enough that Quinn really did not need much else. There was a unique hierarchy of needs in her mind, but she had accepted it. There was nothing she could do about it, unlike everything else in her mind. 

“Still with me, Lucy?” Brittany asked.

“Yes, I,” She looked over at Mr. Berry, “Do you think I should go back inside?”

“It’s four am and you’re sitting on a car with your sweats frozen to the hood, and your nipples are possibly poking through that flimsy tank top of yours. Yes, you should go inside. Just because you are an Ice Queen Tigress does not mean the cold doesn’t affect you.” Quinn nodded. “I’m glad you listen to reason. Someone has to keep you inline when your crazy gets out of control.”

She wanted to laugh, but the thought died in her throat. “It’s okay, you know that I’m completely crazy as well, so I’ve got that going for me.”

“We need to monitor what you watch, Bri,” Quinn said. She sighed and sat up straighter, staring out into the darkness. It would be a couple of hours until sunrise, and part of her wanted to stay out. 

“Never going to happen,” she replied. “Not even Sannie can stop what I watch, though she regrets showing me a few porn sites, did you know that-“

“I am headed inside, Brittany,” Quinn said. She stretched her legs out, her bones creaking, pins and needles trailing up and down them as she tried to work them once again. She exhaled heavily and looked over at Mr. Berry. “Thank you Brittany.”

“For what?” She did not have to say any more, her best friend understood what she could not say for herself and would never need to. 

“Goodbye, and go easy on Santana, she was just worried.”

“Oh, I’ll let her sleep afterwards, don’t worry about it. She needs her rest because we’re watching my cousins. And stop that, you’re supposed to be staring at the wall.” 

“Night, Brittany.” She really did not need to hear any more of what they had planned. 

“Morning Quinn. Things will get better I promise.” A dial tone filled her ear and Quinn closed the phone.

“Mr. Berry?” she asked. 

“Yeah?”

“You would not happen to have a second coat or something, because I think-“

“Here you go.” He held out a thick winter coat, too large for her frame by a few sizes. Probably Mr. Berry’s. “I figured you’d need it.”

“Thank you.” Quinn took it and stood up as quickly as she could, her sweat pants stretch and only tearing in a few spots. In a single motion, she swung the coat on, covering herself up, and stepped towards Mr. Berry. “We can go back.”

“Good, I was worried that we were going to have to stay out here for a couple of hours.”

“You were going to stay with me?”

“Of course,” Mr. Berry said. “Even if you need space, you should never have to be alone. Especially out here.” Quinn looked down and nodded at him. At her house, previously when she ran and disappeared, her father would simply ignore her and let her be, as though she was not worthy of his attention, mainly because she was not at those moments. She did not deserve his care, failing some little test that he had given her, often without her knowledge. Being alone was something she was used to. Being lonely was something she was used to. 

They walked back in, Mr. Berry staying a couple feet to the side of her, but continuously would look over at her, making sure that she was still with him probably. The lights on the first floor were on, and she heard movement within it, voices kept low enough that she could not make any specific one out. MR. Berry stepped forward and opened the door, watching as Quinn walked in, her head down and measuring her steps. 

Through the threshold, she found her arms filled with the form of Rachel Berry, pushing her coat open enough that she could wrap herself as close as possible, as tight as possible. She felt the tears drip onto her shirt and her girlfriend tremble in her arms. “I am sorry,” Quinn said. Mr. Berry disappeared, and for once she was thankful that she was alone with Rachel. Alone again in the house. 

“You are a wonderful and beautiful and kind and sweet and honest and beautiful and-“

“Okay,” Quinn said. She lowered her head to Rachel’s, inhaling her scent and trying to ignore the how the salty tears filled her along with berries, ink, and bacon? “Why do I smell bacon on you?”

“Those poor piggies,” she muttered into her chest. 

“Rachel here thought that the smell would draw you back,” a lithe and gorgeous black woman stepped out the living into the foyer. Saunter would be better, but that did not seem appropriate given she was holding Rachel in her arms. “Demanded to do it herself, despite constantly complaining about the cruelty to animals and how we tortured them and on and on and on.”

“The things I do for you, kitty,” Rachel said into her chest. She pulled away, eyes red and puffy, but a smile filled her. “You better not try something like this again, because if I have to touch another-“

“I cannot promise that, Rae,” Quinn said. “It is, sweetie, I.” She stilled herself and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would run. She always did. It was the only way she could handle some of what she felt. The previous night, she ran away because of the idea that she was hurting Rachel by being around, that she hurt Rachel, but stayed because she could not find the worlds to tell Rachel why she did not want to back. The story would have had to suffice. “I can promise that I can always come back.”

Quinn opened her eyes to find Rachel partly pouting at her, partly glaring at her. It was a unique combination and completely her. “Fine. I will accept your terms.”

“But?” There was always a “but” with Rachel. The girl had to have the last word. Quinn was more than happy to give it to her. She couldn’t give much other than devotion and love, but it would have to be enough. There would be times that she ran because she could not handle things, but maybe one day, those would lessen, maybe one day, she could feel comfortable enough not to take off when everything gets too much. For the present, she would just be content with the thought that Rachel would remain with her. Even if it would end. She hoped it would not and would do whatever it took to prevent it. 

“But you owe me a favor to be paid at a later date.”

“No saddles and then I agree.” Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. The woman snorted and her girlfriend spun in her arms.

“I so do not need to hear about my niece and her girlfriend’s sexual escapades.” Rachel blushed a bright red and turned back into Quinn’s almost bare chest. “Sorry we didn’t get to meet early.” The woman stepped forward and offered a hand. “I’m Rachel’s Aunt Brianna Lafitte, Hiram’s sister. My husband would be here, but our five month old needed a feeding and diaper change.”

“Serafine is so adorable,” Rachel said. She stepped away, sliding her hand down her side and then jumped to take her hand. “You’ll love her.”

Quinn nodded. Babies and her were an odd subject, and while she would have rather not gotten into with Rachel, the enthusiasm was nice to see again, and she owed her for running away. Twice. 

“C’mon. Leroy is probably finishing up with the hot chocolate and coffee. We’re all up, so might as well show you the little girl.”

“Sorry,” Quinn said. 

“For what?” Mrs. Lafitte said. “Ma can be a pain sometimes and tends to speak without thinking.” She nodded and let Rachel drag her after the older woman into the living room. 

There was a hide-a-bed out in it previously where Misters Berry were sleeping, but it had been put away, the tables and furniture rearranged and all their luggage out next to the couch, packed away. The two recliners and love seat were pushed to the side. Mrs. Berry had no trouble moving them all back into their regular positions. 

Rachel continued to lead/pull her into the room and pushed her down onto the loveseat where she climbed in on top of her, pinning her down to the seat. She glared at Quinn when she tried to argue, most like opened her mouth, and the tigress sank a bit further into the seat. Mrs. Lafitte just smiled at them. “What?” Rachel asked. 

“She is so whipped,” she replied. 

“She is in trouble for running a second time and not telling me what she was doing,” Rachel said, keeping her glare on Quinn. 

“Sorry,” Quinn said. She was not really, but the words tend to help things. They did not this time, as the glare intensified. 

“Try sorry dear,” Mrs. Lafitte said.

“Does it help?”

“It doesn’t when I try it,” a voice boomed from up the stairs in a thick Cajun accent. Quinn looked over her shoulder to see a large, well-built man with the darkest skin tone she had ever seen. His hair was a rich white, and there was a smile plastered on his face. In his arms was an adorable baby wrapped in a pink blanket. “But it’s the thought that counts, I think.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Rachel frowned at her, and pushed on her shoulder.

“Yes, dear,” Quinn replied with a smile. Rachel huffed and crossed her arms, stomping her foot as she looked away. 

“That’s the spirit,” the man said, he sat down next to Mrs. Lafitte and passed her the baby. “You must be Quinn, then?”

She nodded, but did not make eye contact. 

“Rachel told us a lot about you,” he continued. “I’m Remy. Pleasure to meet you. She didn’t say-“ Mrs. Lafitte coughed and frowned briefly at her husband, then nodded back at Rachel. “Well, it is good to see that no harm came to you.”

“I figure the caffeine will do us all some good,” Mr. Berry said, walking in with a tray in his hands. Mr. Berry followed, holding a small container of milk and sugar in one hand, a steaming cup in the other. “Though you missy, don’t need any more.”

“Everyone is glaring at me this morning,” Quinn said, looking away.

“Well, you did run into the cold,” Mr. Berry held out the cup, and Quinn fought her smile at the scent of cinnamon, sugar and warm cream. She grabbed it and held it tight. Her hands hurt as the warm bleed into her. “So we are allowed to give you a hard time. Star, you all packed?”

“Yep, everything is set.”

“Huh?” Quinn asked, looking up from the cup.

“We’re leaving as soon as you’re warmed up.” Rachel said. She shifted the coat off of one of her arms and leaned into her side a bit more, wrapping it around both of them.

“Why?”

“Because as much as I love Ma, she does not say that to a guest,” Mr. Berry replied. “No matter how upset she is. She doesn’t have the right in any way, shape, or form.” She looked back down at the cup, shuffling in her seat, the fabric rubbing against her skin she exposed. No one really stood up for besides Santana or Rachel, at least, not in such a grand way. Brittany tended to use more subtle means, though she shuddered at the thought of the last time she did so. The kid nearly transferred out from what she heard. “And Rachel didn’t want to be here where you were clearly not welcomed. Stomped her foot and everything.”

“You matter, Quinn,” Rachel said, rubbing the side of her head against her. “More than you can imagine. I’m not giving you up that easily.”

“But,” Quinn tried to say, but Mr. Berry shook his head.

“Quinn, no one ever, no matter what they have done or how they have acted, deserves to be treated that way. To be forced out of a house because they cannot bear to stay in the same place.” It was a dig at her, but she accepted it. She had treated Rachel in a similar manner. Mr. Berry sat on the arm next to his daughter. “I called your mother, to let her know we were coming. And she said that-”

“What? No, you did not need, you should have done that. She is with Frannie and happy,” Quinn replied, “Really, I am okay, and-“

“Quinn, you ran into below zero weather to get away from Ma,” Mrs. Lafitte said. “That is not okay.”

“Really, I am fine, see, look,” Her hands had some color back, though they were still extremely pale. Her finger tips hurt but she moved them without any real issue. She was okay, the cold really did not affect her.

Rachel turned slightly and looked up at her. “Quinn, look at me.” She shook her head and continued to stare at her hands. “It’s okay. Your mom wasn’t upset. She was worried and scared, but she wasn’t angry.”

Quinn shook her head again. Her mother would demand to know why, make her talk, and they were barely speaking again. She did not have the words to explain this, to prevent her from feeling the guilt of why she felt like she did. “Quinn, you did nothing wrong.” Mr. Berry reached over his daughter and touched her shoulder. She flinched away. 

“I should not have done that,” Quinn said, trying to stand up. “I should not have run away, I could have stayed in the background and just listened, really, I caused too much problems and now-“

Rachel spun in her lap, straddled her and took her face in her hands. The jacket fell from her shoulders, pooling around her waist, but she was pretty well covered by Rachel now. At least her nipples were not points any more. Bits of her probably showed where her sweats were ripped, but for the moment, Rachel was there to protect her. “Kitty, listen to me. You did nothing, absolute nothing wrong. Grandma was wrong. You did nothing wrong.” She should have just taken it like she did with her father, wait until she was alone where she could just sit in a corner and try to ignore the words. Quinn could have handled it. Her mother did not need to be called. Really, it was not that big of deal and-

Lips covered hers softly, before pulling away and touching her nose, her brow and her forehead. Rachel wiped away a tear that slid down her face. “You did nothing wrong.” 

She leaned forward, and Rachel lifted her head, allowing her to curl into her. The room was quiet for a moment before Mrs. Lafitte started a side conversation with Mr. Berry. Mr. Berry stepped away and took a seat on the couch away from them, though he moved slowly, hesitantly. No one spoke to Rachel or her. Rachel did not speak either. She just held Quinn in place, letting her take her time and run away in a group of people, in her own, unique way. She sat there, waiting and staying close but never pushing, letting her come back when she was ready. 

Quinn pulled away, lifted Rachel out of her lap and to her side, though she did not move from the seat. She ignored the tear streaks on her face while looking at the five-month old. She had seen Beth, not really, in about two years, and every time she saw a baby, every time she was near one, she had to fight down the pang of loss. She did not regret giving her up, but wanted to have her child back. It had lessen over the years, but she did not think it would ever go away. “Can I, Mrs. Lafitte, Mr. Lafitte is it alright if I can,” Quinn tried to ask.

“Only if you call me Remy,” Mr. Lafitte said with a laugh. 

“And me Brianna or Bri,” his wife added. 

“Remy, Brianna, may I please hold Sarah fine?”

“Serafine, and of course,” he replied, standing up. He offered the child with no hesitation to a smiling Quinn. She felt it, how wide and large her smile was. Rachel leaned into her side as she received Serafine, holding her carefully and supporting her head in the crock of her elbow. 

“She’s beautiful, Auntie Bri,” Rachel said. She reached out and touched her face softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Serafine moved into her, leaning against her warmth, much like her girlfriend. She yawned in her arms, and Quinn felt the wetness in her eyes. Beth was so pretty, so similar, though the hair, skin, eyes, everything was different. The adults talked for a while, though Rachel kept her attention split between her and Serafine. Quinn rocked her slowly back and forth, humming a tune she remembered from a long time ago, one that she used to sing herself to sleep when her father had sent her to bed early in the evening, demanding that she be quiet and let him have his peace, even when she was quiet and leaving him alone to drink. 

“You’re good with her,” Rachel whispered. Quinn shrugged, but kept on rocking her. “Can we talk in the car?”

“About what?”

“About our future together.” Quinn swallowed and looked up to Rachel, seeing only a smile on her face, large and warm and filled with want and desire. There was no lust, at least for the moment. She leaned into her and rested her head on hers. 

“Of course,” Quinn replied. “Whatever you would like.”

“Damn straight.” Rachel kissed her bare shoulder and returned her attention back to Serafine. “And don’t you forget it.” The babe yawned again, stretching in her little confinement before leaning into Quinn, turning into her chest and nuzzled her. The pang shot through her heart, but she could only smile down at the child. 

“Looks like she’s ready to pass out again,” Remy sighed. “I was hoping we could keep her awake until we left, but maybe in couple of more hours of sleep will do us all good.” Quinn looked up, her mouth dropping open just a little. Really, was it that early already? She had not spent that much time holding Serafine, and it was over? She wanted pull her even closer, not to let go, but the baby was not hers. She had given hers up already. Quinn could not look up at them.

“Hiram, why don’t Rachel and I help you finish packing? That way you can get on the road before traffic.”

“You sure, what about-“ Mr. Berry started to ask, but Rachel stood up quickly. 

“Quinn has a good handle on it, she and Uncle Remy can do it.” Quinn kept her head down but smiled again. Thank you, Rae, she wanted to say. But her words locked in her throat and could only nod to her girlfriend without meeting her eyes. “If that is okay, Uncle Remy.”

The man laughed, full and deep. “Of course, cheri,” he replied. “I would love to get to know the girl who captured my sweet niece’s heart.”

Rachel kissed her cheek, muttered something about leaving a set of cloths for her to change into before running off, almost skipping, with her parents, dragging a small bag with the adults to the foyer. Quinn remained still, slowly her rocking until she came to a complete stop. Remy stepped over to her, and she looked up to a large, toothy grin.

“You’re good with her,” he said.

“Thank you,” Quinn said. She stood evenly, flowing upward in a single motion. Remy stared at her, though it was not in a way she had been used to. Men tended to gaze at her as though she were a piece of meat or a trophy. At school, everyone stared, whether because of her physical beauty or her cold grip over the populace. Remy stared at her as though he were studying her, like on those documentaries they used to show on Discovery channel before it went downhill. “What?”

“Nothing, just,” He walked to the stairs, his words disappearing into mutters and mumbles. 

Quinn followed him up the stairs, watching him move as though each step was a chore. Remy carried a heavy weight, one she felt a few steps behind him, pushing on her chest with every breathe he took. Every rise and fall of his shoulders. Pulsing and pumping. It was familiar, yet so strange that she wanted to step back and run. Again. Her tiger-self growl deep within her, and she eyes danced over every surface, every corner, every edge. Taking all the details in to determine just where it was coming from. Where it would find her. Where the attack would start, the same place it would end. She would protect Beth. Serafine, she meant Serafine. She had given up Beth and let her daughter be whisked away to somewhere safe.

“Coming, Quinn?” Remy asked, and she found herself standing on the landing and staring at the stairs in front of her. She nodded and quickly moved up them, until she was standing next to the fountain of energy, of power.

Quinn stared at his chest, trying to understand just how it felt so in time with each movement of his lungs, his heart, his whole being. Her senses ignited and she could almost hear the blood flow through his arteries and veins, her ears twitching at the sound. She could smell the sparks of his cells as they fired and the ozone that floated around him. Her skin danced an electric current, up and down her arms, legs, and tail. “What are you?” Quinn asked.

“I could ask the same thing,” He looked up and down at her. Her tail twitched again and-

“Oh no,” Quinn reached up with her free hand, patting her ears down. She dragged her hand over her face, fur beneath her fingertips. She could see the claws grown from them, and the stripes glowing very slightly up and down her arms. Her tail poked out one of the holes in her sweats. “Please, no. I, Remy, Mr. Lafitte, it is not what you thing, I swear, I am-“

“It has been a very long time since I seen a therianthropic,” Remy replied. “Let along an ailuranthropic.”

“A what?” 

“A were-cat, specifically, a were-tiger,” Remy gentle took Serafine from her, but his smile never disappeared. Neither did the power. “I thought your kind was gone. Slaughtered by Hunters. I’m to see that wasn’t true.”

Quinn stepped away.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Quinn, it’s fine. I swear by my ancestors, may their spirits leave me. I mean you no harm.” His accent became heavier, and the power danced on her fur. She felt the static build in her. She took another step back. He followed this time. “I can explain.”

“I do not, what is it you wish from me, I have-“

“You are safe here, nothing will happen. A Hunter has no power on these lands. I have ensured it.” His eyes moved up and down her, watching her movements, cornering her. What did he want from her? Why was he like this, this strange entity? She could not smell him anymore, just the roar of ozone filled her nose. 

“A hunter? Power, I-“

“You know nothing?” Remy stopped advancing. “No one, did you parents not teach you of our world?” 

“No, my mother,” Quinn replied, shaking her head and looking away from the extremely large man. “Our life was normal. We were normal. It had to be that way. She had accepted it so. My father-”

“Say no more, I understand, then.” He waved for her to follow, never stepping into her space. He led her into a bedroom where a crib had been set up. “It just means there is a lot you don’t know, a lot you need, and I don’t have the time to explain it, or the knowledge of it fully.”

“I have had a little help, some werewolves by me,” Quinn said.

“Good, at least that’s a start. Is there a warden or druid in the area, someone to watch out for you?” Remy lied Serafine down in the crib, showing his back to Quinn. She wanted to pounce, to finish accepting her tiger and attack the man who had exposed her in a place she was not welcomed. But she held back. The danger was high, and the hair on her tail stood on its end. 

“I do not know what that means.” One Remy’s belt was a series of pouches, including a stick that looked like bone, etched with various symbols and things on it in dark brown ink. They had hints of that pulsing force, though not as great as him. Remy was a dangerous person, far more than she had seen before.

Quinn was truly a kitten before him, and she did not like it. 

Remy turned around and leaned against the crib, smiling at her. It was meant to be warm and comforting. Her tail twitched again. “I wish we had more time. There is so much you need to know.”

“About what?”

“About everything. Our world is so much larger than you can imagine.”

Downstairs, she could hear the conversations of Misters Berry and Brianna, though everything was muffled by the floorboards, the plywood, and the carpet. Mr. and Mrs. Berry were sleeping, or at least, one of them was. The other tossed and turned in the bed. The rest of the house was quiet. 

Remy pulled out a card and handed it to her. “I’m probably the closest you could speak to about this, at least who is willing to open and help you. Another man operates out of the phone book, practically giving our secrets away, in Chicago.” 

Quinn took the card from his hand before he stepped any closer, her eyes never moving from his. Remy moved back slowly, returning to his easy stance against the crib. The card read “Laffite’s Emporium: Purveyor of Incense, Spices, and Herbs.” There was a number at the bottom. 

“It’s a front of sorts, but the shop does well enough that I can continue my research. We also well roots, minerals, candles, oils, and so many other things that the various practitioners could find useful. I supply a decent number of folk in the city, and some country wide now with the internet, though my wife handles that. Electronics and I don’t mix well.”

“I do not understand.” Remy was rambling on of something. She knew that there was more to things, more than simply what was present. She was a perfect example of that. Santana was something more, but Quinn did not understand that either. Was there even stranger things out there? Why would he offer to help her then, to explain these things? What was she getting into? What was she in? Quinn wanted to speak, but she just gripped the card tighter. She had too much already to deal with, especially that she had a girlfriend who had not told her about a returning ex.

“We’ll talk later about it, call me,” Remy said. “Your girl is gonna come up and get you soon.” 

“I know,” Quinn said. “She is walking up the stairs now.” 

“Then you might want to change back, least her fathers freak out about your appearance.” She looked at her paw hands, and closed her eyes, focusing on the blonde cheerleader she was, accepting her appearance against every instinct she had. The transformation back into a human form was not painful in a physical sense, but she hated mirrors enough to know that the acceptance hurt sometimes. Quinn sighed heavily, exhaling every bit she could, and her fur and claws and tail slowly returned into her. 

Rachel stepped into room, a shy smile lifting Quinn’s spirit. She moved into her space and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Everything okay?” she asked. 

Quinn looked down at the card, but nodded anyways. Things had changed. Again. She was not sure how to deal with it, but at least Rachel was with her now. Remy knew more than she did, probably her mother too. It was another conversation she would have to have with her concerning more things that she should know. Things that could be of importance, both to her and her life.

“Quinn?” Remy said as they turned to leave, more like Rachel dragged her to leave by her side, refusing to move from her. 

“Yes?”

“Beware the Hunters,” he said, “They will come from you. If I can sense you, they certainly can. Be careful and watch for them.” Remy nodded once, then turned back to his daughter. Rachel looked back and forth between them, but Quinn’s blank face was enough to keep them moving.

As they walked down the stairs, Rachel paused to grab the coat from the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I figured you’d want to just head out. I have your stuff packed away already, though your pillow and blanket are in the back for us. For you to sleep. You’ve barely gotten any these past couple days and I just want you to be okay. And while normally, I don’t mind seeing your ass, this is the only time you get to wave that fine piece of meat about for the family. It is mine and mine alone, got it?” 

Quinn nodded, and pulled Rachel closer. “What did Uncle Remy want?”

“To help, I think,” Quinn said. She looked at the card, now crumpled. “I do not know how though. I barely understand what he wanted in the first place.”

“Is everything okay?” 

“You are with me?”

“Of course, all the way.”

“Then yes. Everything is okay.” Rachel squealed softly and hugged her tightly, dragging her to the car where Misters Berry waited for them for the six hour, god awful car right. But Rachel was with her, and that meant at least, for the moment, she would be okay. They would get to the strangeness that Remy spoke of, the return of St. James, and probably even what was going on with Tish and the Skanks, but for the one fleeting moment in a farmland surrounded English country home, everything was okay. 

But there is also Quinn’s hierarchy of needs. “You mentioned bacon, right? Do you still have it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Bah, so much for Faberry Week, the Sequel. I wrote this instead. It has some sleepover-esque parts in it so I guess it fits, but still. Oh well. This filled too much of my mind to let go. 
> 
> First things first: welcome all newcomers. I’m glad to see so many new people reading this. Makes my body sing electric. Or some other weird literary reference/metaphor. Anyways, please enjoy this and I hope I can continue to keep you entertained.
> 
> I kinda like where this chapter goes. At least Quinn’s eyes open up a little bit, and Faberry makes some deals between them to function a bit, or at least not go crazy when the other can’t (Mostly Rachel over Quinn’s actions, but Rachel is crazy, don’t doubt that). I like the idea of more in the magical world, and how it is so much larger than Quinn can imagine. And I like that she is not this all knowing person who had the answers. 
> 
> It was fun to write, and I swear, I’m trying to get away from the depressing stuff, it’s just that my mood is reflected in my writing so that tells you something, right? 
> 
> As always, I fail to possess the rights to Glee. If they were mine, I’d probably have ended it prior to puppets, but maybe not. At least do an Avenue Q song. Is that too much to ask?
> 
> Please read and review, I love hearing from you all. And I truly hope I’m answering questions or at least leaving you with the understanding that there will be answers. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel hadn’t seen Quinn for the rest of the weekend. After they got back to Lima, Ms. Fabray was there waiting for her daughter, who she hugged pretty tightly, leaving Quinn surprised and standing frozen for the moment. They didn’t talk in the car; Quinn slept the entire way back, Rachel’s lap was her pillow. She ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her head and the back of her neck with her lesbian appropriate finger nails. Her girlfriend purred most of the way, mumbling about how the bacon was wasted and she would require more. It would have been adorable had she not been so obsessed about the topic.

Dec. 1st

Rachel hadn’t seen Quinn for the rest of the weekend. After they got back to Lima, Ms. Fabray was there waiting for her daughter, who she hugged pretty tightly, leaving Quinn surprised and standing frozen for the moment. They didn’t talk in the car; Quinn slept the entire way back, Rachel’s lap was her pillow. She ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her head and the back of her neck with her lesbian appropriate finger nails. Her girlfriend purred most of the way, mumbling about how the bacon was wasted and she would require more. It would have been adorable had she not been so obsessed about the topic. She had no right to be upset about that the bacon would have to remain behind at her Poppa’s for the rest of the family. Maybe she could find some way to make it up to her without having to deal with the slaughter of innocent animals. 

The holiday was a disaster and Rachel had hoped to salvage it, but Ms. Fabray had wanted to spend time with her daughter. The woman did not blame her for the situation, at least, she didn’t think so, but Quinn was out of reach the entire weekend. Rachel sent a five page document explaining why she felt horrible about the week and needed to make it up to her. It was short, but it would have to do the job until she could see her again. 

Quinn came out to her mother some time ago, probably just after she wanted to start a non-relationship with Rachel but before it became a real-relationship. While she didn’t feel pressured or unwanted by the woman, it still was a strain on their relationship. But Ms. Fabray was trying. Rachel had yet to meet meet her, but all she heard was that Quinn’s mother was trying. 

Finally, on Sunday, just before she was setting her alarm clock and going to bed for the night, Rachel’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Quinn, saying how she was looking forward to seeing her at school, looking forward to holding her hand, kissing her in the hallway, walking her to class. She would never announce it, but that was as much as Quinn would show her love, and yes it was love, to the world for her. Rachel slept under many blankets, dreaming of her tigress. 

Now, prior to the first bell, Rachel stood at her locker, looking through and waiting for her girlfriend to show up. She hadn’t the chance to talk to Brittany and Santana yet, but a few texts confirmed that they would have a get together soon. 

Arms wrapped around her waist and a chin rested on the top of her head. Rachel breathed in deep the vanilla and berry scent and curled into the arms. She relaxed into the embrace and smiled as a purr filled her ears. “Hi,” Rachel said, closing her eyes.

“Hi,” Quinn said. 

“You okay?”

“Are you with me?”

“Always.”

“Then yes.” Rachel spun in her arms and her smile grew as Quinn’s hands found her waist, holding her just above her hips. Her thumbs slipped under her sweatshirt, under her long sleeved one, and her undershirt, tracing circles on her bare skin. She shivered and hooked her arms around Quinn’s neck. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m sorry bout this weekend.” Quinn leaned down a little bit, she was taller, only by a few inches, but taller non-the-less, and kissed her forehead. Rachel giggled and pulled her girlfriend close. 

Quinn had decided that black jeans and a t-shirt were appropriate today and she loved how the jacket she wore over it just draped on her shoulders as though it were a roman statesmen’s robe. The vanilla and berry scent was strong, enveloping her once more. “There is nothing to be sorry about, Rae.”

“I wanted to yell and scream at her,” Rachel said. “But you were the priority. You and your safety and your happiness and, well, just you. I was worried about you. You matter.”

Quinn nodded, smiling at her. “I talked with my mom this weekend.”

“Mom?” Usually it was mother, when did-

“About the Hunters, about the supernatural world, about everything she did not tell me,” Quinn said. The smile never left her face. “I talked about you. A lot actually.”

“Oh,” Rachel said. “Good things, I hope.”

“Had to scrap the bottom of the barrel for some, but sure, we will say ‘good things.’” The smile turned into a smirk before sliding into a smile. Rachel tried to glare, but her girlfriend smiling at her was too wonderfully not to be happy about. 

“Is there a reason for this?” Rachel asked. “Is it that time again?” She scanned the hallway quickly. Most of the students hadn’t arrived yet, but a few were lingering in the hallway. While her exhibitionist streak was something she would like to feed at some point, completely exposed and actively watched were something she wanted to avoid at least until after her EGOT.

Quinn looked up and tapped her chin. “You are good for a few days. No, I learned some things I want to share.”

“You? Willingly sharing? I don’t have to pry it out from you?” Rachel said. She had hoped Quinn took the smile to mean that she was joking. Her girlfriend still felt guilty about being so closed up sometimes, and she knew that she shouldn’t push those buttons, but it was so tempting now. 

“More like I cannot avoid it.” Quinn stilled then looked to her right. Before Rachel could follow her gaze, she grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her flush against her, her lips smashing against her. Her eyebrows shot up, and she barely got a breath in before Quinn pressed hard against, her pushing against the locker. Rachel gasped, her hands trying to find traction on her jacket, but the faux leather refused to yield. Rachel settled on sliding her hand up Quinn’s front, sliding up her shirt to her collar and gripping it. Quinn captured her bottom lip and sucked on it. She tasted like berries. 

She could feel the pounding rush of Quinn’s heart beneath her hand. She smiled into the kiss and Quinn pulled back slowly, giving her gentle small kisses on her lips, her nose, her cheeks and forehead. Rachel giggled, and her hand slide back down to her waist, pulling her hips flush and their legs overlapping. “What was that?”

“Hey,” Finn said. 

That made things a bit more obvious. Quinn was claiming her. Not that Rachel had a real problem with it. They did agree on her role in public, and she was more than happy to play that part. As Quinn moved to let her go, her arm remained on her shoulders, pulling her even closer. “Hi Finn,” Rachel said. She leaned into her tigress. 

“How was your break?”

“Eventful,” she said. “Things didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Listen I was wondering if it were possible for you to help us, you know, like you said.” He looked so confused and lost, and refused to look at Quinn. 

“Finn, as I said before-“

“I know, I know that. It’s not just me this time. Mike, Puck, and I went and got Sam back, and we were thinking that you could help us get caught up.”

Rachel looked up at Quinn. She stared at Finn, who didn’t even notice her. He just looked down at Rachel smiling, expecting that she would automatically say yes. But she wouldn’t, not until Quinn said it was okay. For a minute, no one moved, though the smile disappeared from Finn’s face slowly. Finally, her girlfriend nodded, and Rachel turned back to Finn. “Just you four?”

“Brittany might join,” Finn said, the goofy looking smile plastered on his face again. “Though I don’t think Santana would be too happy about that.”

“Probably not, but both of them are more than welcome. After Glee today, we’ll set a schedule that works at ensuring Sam is well prepared for Sectionals.” Rachel stood up slowly to kiss Quinn on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, kay?”

“Sure, Santana will probably demand we eat together, so look for her at lunch, okay” Quinn said. “I have packed us something. And do not worry. It is vegan, those poor defenseless vegetables.” Rachel stomped her food, turned, and stormed away. The sound of Quinn’s laughter was music that rivaled only her own voice, and she was honored to at least have caused it, even if the joke was at her expense.

But it died as quickly as it arrived. Rachel didn’t need to look back to tell that her girlfriend and ex were glaring at each other. Part of her would have liked them to get along, Finn was not a terrible person, just rather slow and limited sometimes, but he was like a golden retriever puppy: always trying and sometimes failing, constantly looking for that reassurance he was a good boy, and in general oblivious of things around him.

Quinn was a cat. Not physically, well not physically also, but she was a cat metaphorically in the same manner as Finn was a puppy. She needed really nothing from her, but kept coming back because she wanted to be there. She was there to support and love and cherish her, independent enough that she functioned without her, and Rachel could function without her, though she didn’t want to. 

Everything was going great. Then Jesse showed up. Again.

“You.”

“Now, I know you’re upset for some strange reason,” he said. Rachel growled in her best Quinn imitation and pushed him out of her way. Sadly, he followed her. She had yet to figure out just exactly he was doing in McKinley, given his role as a college student and/or drop out, but that was not her concern. Her concern was that he was following her, which now would be called stalking. “But we seriously need to talk.”

“Does it look like I want to talk to you?”

“That’s not the point,” Jesse said. “Rachel, you need to listen to me just for one moment.”

“And why should I.” She didn’t stop walking away. Her classroom was a few doors away, but Jesse seemed determined to annoy her. “You have done nothing but hurt me.”

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. Her books nearly flew out of hands, and she almost lost her balance as he pulled her face to face. “This is important. You are in danger.”

This was not the boy she remembered. Jesse had changed in the time that he had left Lima, and Rachel worried for a moment that she missed noticing it before. Was she just that blind? Standing this close to him, a worrying-glare focused on her, she took his appearance in. Gone was boyish man-child with self-proclaimed perfect hair and unbelievably smooth skin. He really did talk too much about himself. And why did she remember that? Replacing his old self was a short-haired, poorly shaved, thin man. He also was more confidence, if that was possible. Or maybe it was confidence that replaced arrogance. Rachel didn’t like it either way. But his eyes were so sunken and tired. He never smiled, Rachel realized. The few short times, even greeting her in that pseudo-excited voice, he never smiled. 

“Why do you care?” Rachel asked, trying to pull away. His grip was strong. “And what kind of danger?”

“That is your concern?” Jesse replied. “You are so distrustful of me because of one stupid high school mistake-“

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am in high school.” Rachel stomped her foot. “And that was not a mistake, you murdered all those baby chicks and-“ 

Jesse laughed loud enough to echo through the hallway, even with all the people in it. “Seriously, you’re mad about that? Not about me playing you, tricking you, because your mother was too scared to confront you herself? God, what did I ever see in you?”

Rachel’s glare intensified. She hadn’t forgotten about that, but in truth, it was nothing that she hadn’t expected. Not that she thought her mother was horrible person or anything like that, but she went about it all the wrong way. The only one injured in her acts was her, and she had forgiven the woman. When she turned eighteen, she might reach out, though probably only with Quinn’s permission given the odd relationship between all of them. Did it mean that she was step-sister or an aunt of Beth? Well, would be Aunt. A girl could dream couldn’t she? Rachel already alluded to the desire to be with Quinn a long time, so it wasn’t too far off of a dream.

“Either tell me why I am in danger, and of what kind, or get the fuck out of my school,” Rachel said, trying to channel Quinn’s growl with Santana’s tone. Maybe it was enough of one or the other or both, but Jesse stepped back. 

“Lima is not safe.”

“For who?”

“For anyone. There are…” He looked away, eyes darting at the various students falling away. She was really late to class, or would be. Maybe she could run to it and make homeroom. “There are things here. Things that are savage and murderous.”

“And how would you know this?”

“I wasn’t at college the past year, Rach.”

“Rachel, my name is Rachel,” she said. This was really wasting her time. “Why does this even matter? I don’t care-

“Rachel. For once, just listen to me. Think about something more than your precious singing for once in your life and listen to me. You are in danger. There are monsters in the world, more than you can imagine. And Lima is filled with them right now. You need to get out of here. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Whoa!” Santana’s voice echoed down the hallway. Most of the students were gone, and she could see her friend turn the corner, glaring at the back of the man-child. “What the fuck is he doing here? He bother you, Rach?”

Santana glided across the floor, and Rachel could have sworn she felt a brief hymn of something with each step, in time with her heart.

“You.”

“I see that Shue 0.5 is here, fucking up the property values with the amount of product in his nonexistent hair.”

Jesse stared at her. “I know you, Satan.”

“Please, like I haven’t heard that before.” She paused before him, hands on her hips and glaring up at him in her red and white armor, short skirt on all. Seriously, she’d kill for Quinn to wear it again, especially with her knew haircut. Whoever made that uniform was certainly a pervert. Bless him. “What the fuck are you doing in my school?”

“I know you,” Jesse repeated. His hand went to his belt, but grasped at nothing. 

“Came without any of your tools of murder I see.” Santana stepped toward him; he stepped back. 

“You have no power over me, witch.” Why the hell would he call her that? Jesse clearly wasn’t afraid of swearing. 

“Wrong, fucker.” She kept walking towards him, pushing up him against the locker until she was inches up from him. Santana somehow glared down at him. “You are in my-“ She turned and looked at Rachel. “Go along to class, Rach, I’ve got this.”

“Santana,” Rachel said.

Her face relaxed, almost resigned to something. But she gave Rachel a small smile at least. “It’s okay. Me and St. Dumbass are just gonna have a little chat about boundaries. Just go, please. You don’t need to hear this.” Rachel turn and ran.

She wasn’t frightened by the pounding in her heart as Santana walked down the hall, or Jesse’s words about her being in danger. It wasn’t even the fact that she didn’t want to see what she was going to do to him, which she was curious. 

But Santana never said please. And the thought that she did scared the fuck out of her. 

!-!-!-!-!-!

Quinn sat in her small, assigned art studio, staring at a painting she had been working on for a while. It was due at the end of the semester, along with the rest of her portfolio, but she was not worried. Most of her work was completed, and she really only had to finish this last piece. Mrs. Carolle had already promised her a few slots in the Winter Showcase, maybe even a whole section for her. 

Art was something she did for herself, maybe something she shared with her friends, but really, it was just for her. She did not expect anything of it. Her schools only cared for the diversity it brought to her application. It was not like Yale had a great art program.

The door opened and Rachel slide in, closing it right after her. “Hey,” Quinn spun on her stool and smiled at her. 

Rachel only nodded before walking over to her and sitting on the floor next to her, wrapping her arms around her legs and laying her head against her thigh. “Rae? What is wrong?”

“So,” Rachel asked, “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay?” 

“Jesse has shown up,” she said. Quinn stilled. Brittany had told her about it, at least mentioning that something had happened. “At school. Twice.”

“He has been here twice.” Rachel nodded. “Did, did he harm you? Do I need to speak with him?” Rachel shrugged. “What is wrong then?”

“Today, he,” Rachel tried to speak but shook her head.

Quinn slid down from the chair to eye level with her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she sniffed a couple of times. But she smelled no tears and heard no elevated heartbeat. “Sweetie.” She did not have the words. While she was really good at understanding them and projecting them, rarely had she found the right thing to say. Instead, she pulled Rachel into a hug, her head against her chest, and rocked back and forth.

“Santana said please.”

“That is never good.” Quinn meant it as a joke, but Rachel just nodded. She turned into her and relaxed enough against to make Quinn support her entire weight, which was easy enough. She was small, but mighty. 

The only thing to do was wait until Rachel started rambling. At some point, she would say everything that she needed to, and maybe then Quinn could have a whole picture. The wait was not long.

“It was so weird. Jesse came in and was trying to warn me about these monsters in the area and then grabbed my arm and started to say that I was stupid, though not in as many words, and then Santana showed up and the hallway like shook but didn’t, you know, and my heart started to race and hurt and pound in my chest, and I had some difficulty breathing, then Jesse called Santana a witch and Satan, which isn’t that weird because, really, we’ve all called her and or thought she was those things, but she mentioned his tools of murder and-“

Quinn let Rachel go and reached for her phone. Her girlfriend stared at her as she typed as fast as she could. This was not good at all. Though she knew a few more things than before, her mother had at least warned her. Especially since another Skank was dead. Melissa “Miles” Donavon was found, in human form so there was some closure, but not much, butchered in her front lawn, naked. The Mack cornered her and they had almost a fist fight over the topic. That and her dating Rachel. Sue had to break them up, or rather pull Quinn off The Mack. 

A Hunter. A Hunter, with a capital H, was in town. Or at least, she had reason to think so. And what Rachel had talked about was Santana nearly losing the little control she had over herself. She never understood what the Latina could do, just bits of fact thrown in randomly and tail ends of conversations she overheard. But Santana took her role as protector seriously. Somehow that involved magicks.

Her mom talked about them, that there were those out there who could tap into this force of energy that is entwined with life and everything then use it to do great deeds. Quinn showed her the card, but she had never heard of Remy Lafitte, or his shop. Then again, they were pretty isolated, by design, in Lima. There were more creatures out in the world than just werewolves and were-tigers. Apparently, vampires, demons, and monsters of all myths and tales existed and plagued the world. The world was much bigger than she could ever expect. 

When Quinn first learned of her heritage, her duties as the scion of her race, her mom told her about how they were hunted down and nearly made extinct. She had just assumed that it was the regular old poachers. But Hunters. Hunters were something far worse than a run-of-the-mill random mundane killing for food or protection. Hunters were monster killer, and existed to slaughter innocent people for the sole fact that they were not human. Or at least their definition of human. 

Thus, a need for Santana to stop having sex with Brittany and to find her so that she could at least have an idea of how much danger she, they were in.

“Quinn? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, never,” Quinn replied. She sent her text and returned to Rachel. 

“I already told Dad that I don’t want to spend Christmas with Grandma.”

“What? Topic change much?”

“Clearly whatever is happening you know more about than me, which I’m sure I will fix when you come over tonight and we study together, and if you are unsure I mean-“

“Okay, I am really, really okay with that,” Quinn said, “but what is this about Mrs. Berry and Christmas?”

“I refuse to spend time where the person I love is not accept.” Rachel looked up at her, smiling shyly and refusing to meet her eyes. “I know we haven’t talked about it, but I just want to put that out there.”

“Not too fast?” Quinn asked. It was. Fast. Very fast. They had been dating for less than a month, though prior to that was not dating for a while. Then the three months she avoided Rachel, and prior to that two months of becoming her friend. It was fast, and it worried Quinn. 

Rachel shook her head. “We’ve know each other for four plus years, Quinn, and in that time, we’ve had a relationship. Antagonistic, but a relationship nonetheless.” She frowned; their relationship had been something horrible, mostly because of her actions towards the diva. There was a small amount of bullying in middle school, but high took it to the next level, making things much worse for the diva. Six months was not enough time to fully erase it, and she never would erase it completely, not from her end. Quinn caused so much pain and anguish to Rachel for no reason other than to make a father who she could never satisfy, but she would continue to try no matter what he or anyone else thought, happy. 

“But six months ago, you changed so much, and while it was all for you, part of me felt it was also for me,” Rachel continued. “It was you who pushed to make amends, you who pushed to make me happier than I had ever been. And you protected me this year, even when you ran away. Most importantly, you always came back, even when I thought you hated me.”

“Never, Rae,” Quinn said, “I never could hate you, even during freshmen year when I was really horrible.”

“I know that now, and the now matters more than anything. When I wake up, my thoughts are of you and how you are doing. I worry about you so much, not physically because besides Santana you’re the scariest person I know, but how you doing, how everyone is treating you. How you are dealing with everything. I like how you come and find me whenever I’m having a bad anything, without ever being asked. I like how you find me when you’re having a bad day, because you actually want my comfort, not that it is some vague notion that you need to do it like your previous boyfriends. I like how you actually have tried to eat vegan food with me, even when your very nature is against it. For Barbara’s sake, Quinn, I’ve make bacon for you.” 

“Which I never got.”

“That’s besides the point. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe, you make me smile. A real smile.”

“I love your smile.”

“And my nose.”

“It is a cute nose.” Quinn kissed it. 

“You don’t make fun of it. You, my worst tormenter, never picked on the one feature I worried about the most. You care about what I do and make sure that it is important to you. You’ve treated me better than any of my other boyfriends and, and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I love it when you ramble,” Quinn said. “And I you.” She leaned her forehead against Rachel’s and rubbed it slightly. The words would come one day, one day when she could tell Rachel what she wanted to say. But the tigress was content to just express it through whatever little ways she could. 

“I find it nauseous, but Brittany makes me usually not say anything,” Santana said, and Brittany slapped her arm.

“Be nice,” Brittany said. “You promised.”

“That was made under duress. You can’t hold me to it.” The Latina walked into the room and sat down directly in front of the couple. Brittany closed the door and followed, settling in her girlfriend’s lap. Rachel climbed into Quinn’s and pulled her arms around her waist.

“Of course I can.” She kissed her cheek. “I have it in writing.”

“Lipstick on my ass doesn’t-“

“Once again, I must remind you that I have no desire to hear about your sexual escapades.” Quinn glared at them.

“And you and Hobbs don’t get freaky in here?” Quinn blushed and hid in Rachel’s hair. “Or was it only once? Because damn girls, that’s a long fucking time going without a little satisfaction.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m satisfied every night,” Rachel said, but quickly covered her mouth. There were times when Rachel’s propensity to talk got Quinn in trouble or caused her embarrassment. 

Brittany laughed before Santana could even respond, asking the question Quinn did not want to hear. “And you aren’t taking care of Quinn? For shame, my protégée, for shame.”

“Now, Quinnie here is a big girl.” Santana’s words shook slightly, a laugh or two was thrown into the mix just to make it worse. Quinn tried to bury completely into Rachel, pulling her tight and adjusting her so she was a shield against the pair. “She can take care of herself, can’t she?”

Be quiet Rachel, please for once do not say- “She doesn’t. We’ve been talking about it and-“ Quinn let go of her waist and clamped both hands over Rachel’s mouth. The other couple laughed even harder at them, Brittany falling out of Santana’s lap. It would have been okay if Rachel had not started licking her hand. She fought the need to pull away, really. Her arms shook and her hand slipped a little. Then Rachel started to grind against her, sliding back and forth in her lap. Quinn shifted around, trying to find some position that did not press her perfect behind against her, and held tight. 

“Ooo.” Santana straighten up and Quinn watched her pull Brittany into her lap. “I should have known that the Hobbs enjoyed being watched.”

This was not supposed to happen. She wanted to talk to Santana about what was happening, bring in Brittany, who probably knew most of it already if only from observation, and Rachel into whatever was happening around them. They needed to know how to be safe. Rachel arched against her, pressing down a bit further. She moaned against Quinn’s hand, shivering for a moment before continuing to grind on her. Her skirt was riding higher and higher, and she really wanted to rub through toned thighs, run her fingers up and down the perfectly smooth skin until -

“Can we hold off on this?” Quinn said, almost shouting. She looked up over her girlfriend, who hadn’t stop, damn her, damn her, her tigress was already itching to come out this week, but she just wouldn’t stop, at Santana whose hand was in the process of disappearing up Brittany’s blouse. The blonde had stretched out a bit, her reaching behind her to pull Santana’s head even closer. Lord, she really didn’t need to see that. “P-Pease. We have things we need to discuss.”

“What is more important than watching a little pony get her rocks off on a pussy cat?”

“Your conversation this morning,” Santana stilled completely, and Quinn felt the familiar hum for a spilt second. 

“Rach told you?”

Rachel nodded. Damn her, seriously, this was serious and she was still grinding and licking her hand. Quinn was pretty sure it wasn’t because she wanted to talk just to tease her until she let go, but she refused to be the first to give in. 

Brittany slide off of Santana into a spot halfway between them, touching Quinn’s knees with her feet. “Sannie?” Quinn steadied herself and tried to ignore the beautiful diva in her lap. At least she stopped grinding her for the moment. She could gather her thoughts again, away from how much she wanted to do unholy things to Rachel. Now was not the time for that. 

“It was nothing, Britts, I-“

“What happened?” She turned to Quinn, the fun and joyful girl was gone. This was the Brittany that Quinn knew from middle school, the girl who saw everything and took it in, processed it in a way that made the slightest connections important and turned all that information into something dangerous: oblivious. Everyone thought of her as this ditz, but Quinn knew better. Brittany, of all the Unholy Trinity, was the most dangerous, if only because she was without any power. 

“I wasn’t there, and well,” she looked at Rachel, “Rae’s a bit indisposed.” She let go with one hand and pitched her girlfriend’s behind. She jumped slightly, but Quinn’s hand remained over her mouth, preventing her from completely turning around and glaring at her. Quinn just offered a smile. “So ask your girlfriend. And you, stop it.”

Brittany nodded. “Fair enough. We are in public after all. Sannie? What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear. I didn’t touch the bastard.”

“I want details Santana.” The Latina sighed.

“I was headed to class after dropping you off and I found Rach here being accosted by St. Jerkass, grabbed her arm and everything. So we had a bit of conversation.” 

“Something happened before that, what was it?” She looked over at Rachel. 

Rachel tried to squirm out of Quinn’s grip again. “Do you have something to say?”

Rachel nodded.

“You going to behave?” she asked. Rachel nodded again and licked her hand, dragging her tongue slowly up her palm. Quinn shivered and shifted again, focusing on accepting her human form while all the tiger-self wanted was to take her there and then. “Then stop that.” She ground against her one more time before stopping in her arms. 

Quinn let go and Rachel relaxed a bit more. “Thank you Quinn, though I must protest and say that we are-“ She pinched her ass and Rachel yelped, nearly jumping out of her lap. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Answer the pretty blonde’s question.”

“Fine, I do this under protest though.”

“Noted. Continue.”

“Jesse was talking about monsters and creatures and how I was in danger and it was kinda like he was trying to get me to follow him or something. For my safety. Santana showed up and the world felt kinda weird, and my heart hurt as it beat in this weird tempo that was out of sync, but strangely comfortable nonetheless, making it even stranger that neither of them seemed to notice it and-“ She looked back and forth between Santana and Brittany, where the latter had started to glare at the former, who tried to sink into herself as much as possible. 

“I warned you, Santana,” Brittany said. “I told you to be careful.”

“C’mon, don’t get mad at me,” Santana replied. Brittany stood up and walked toward the door, locking it. “I was doing what I was supposed to.”

“We talked about this, after last time. You said you’d work on it. You’d make sure you had it under control. You promised me.”

“What under control?” Rachel asked.

“Rach was in trouble, Jesse was there, and I couldn’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know she’s your bff, sweetie,” Brittany said, crouching down in front of her girlfriend, cupping her face. Quinn stayed as still as possible, watching Brittany wipe at her cheeks. Seeing Santana emotional was never a good moment, certainly not for her. Her second in command should never have to cry. She hated to see her cry of all people. For Rachel or Brittany, Quinn would murder whoever caused them to cry. For Santana, though, she would break them. Her tiger-self started pacing back and forth within her heart, her steps deliberate and slow to ensure her human-self did not burst out of the room to seek and destroy said fool. “I know what that means to you. How much we all matter to you.”

“A Hunter, Brittany, a Hunter,” Santana replied. “Here in my town, in my area, and I didn’t know anything about it.” 

“No one did,” Quinn said. 

“It is my job to keep you safe,” Santana continued; she focused on Brittany and remained as still as possible, just looking up into her girlfriend’s face. “My job. Not Mami, not my Abeulo, not my cousins who float in whenever they want and leave just as quickly. It is my job to keep you safe.”

“You’re just one-“

“No, Britts, please,” Santana leaned into the touch, trying to rest her forehead on Brittany’s. “Please, just listen. It is my job to protect you. You, Quinn, and now Rach. No one else’s. Mine. You understand.”

“You’ve accepted then?”

“Accepted what?” Rachel asked. Quinn pulled her close and shook her head in her hair. This was not the time for that. 

“I needed to, after hearing what happened with that Skank, after Quinn’s own struggle and everything that happened to her. Me and Mami discussed it, that it was time for me to be more, to do more. I couldn’t be passive anymore.”

“It isn’t her fault, Sanni, you didn’t-“

“She is the last of her kind, Brittany,” Santana shouted. The room shook briefly, Quinn’s oils falling to the floor. “The last. Her mother may be something similar, but there is no other like her. And-“

“Thank you,” Quinn said, though her words only vibrated against Rachel’s neck. It would have to be enough for the moment. Everything else would have been drowned out by the others in the room. She had expected nothing else from her friends, being the loud people they are.

“Quinn, please explain just what is-“

“Santana, you didn’t need to expose yourself like that and-“

“I cannot, will not, allow anyone to hurt any of you, Britt, you need to-“

Quinn wished that the words and tones and the anger and the sadness would have dissolved into just noise, but her hearing, no matter what form she took, was too refined for it. She heard the rage from Santana, how it pounded within her heart. The fear from Brittany, how her hair, no fur, stood on end, her ears danced about, seeking another predator. The confusion from Rachel, how her hand clenched and unfurled, her claws scratching her skin.

The trio was arguing, speaking over each other, trying to gain the upper hand. Quinn knew her three friends were loud. It was an accepted fact that she had to deal with since joining the cheerios. One of the reasons why she had been so apprehensive about cheerleading, and Glee club for that matter, was the sound of it all. The acceptance of all of herself, tiger and human, had brought out some aspects of herself that she struggled with, one of which was the increase in her senses, specifically hearing. Everything was overwhelming at the time, simple whispers overpowering her thoughts, conversations from across the room filling every fiber of her, cars and buses and any vehicle crippling her. Quinn struggled to remain sane that first month just due to the hearing, the bone-crushing transformations just added to that pleasure.

Now, it was back. In full form. She had thought she had gone past all of that, but apparently, herself had decided that she was still struggling accepting things, and therefore had to suffer for that indecision.

“Enough!” Rachel’s loud voice pierced through everything. Quinn pushed her away and covered her ears as quick as possible, but the tone tore through her, biting down on her nerves and forcing her fur to stand on end. She pulled her ears down over her head and tried to curl into a corner, away from the source. It was a vague hope that it would be enough, at least the voice did not sound again. 

She rocked slowly back and forth, a hand came up and scratched the back of her neck, then trailed down her spine only to return to the beginning of its cycle. Quinn did not want to relax, to calm down, but the motion continued, then another hand dragged its fingers over her scalp in strange pseudo-circles around her ears and forehead. A third set of hands grabbed hers and pulled them away from her head, gripping them tightly. 

Quinn shivered, trying to force the ringing away and calm her senses. The three sets of hands forced her down slowly, letting her pull her knees to her chest and bury her face in her knees. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, and she felt a head rest on her shoulder. The others pulled back, but she could feel the bodies were very close. She could hear their heartbeats, frantic and militant. The longer she sat with her knees pulled tight and her face down, the heart beats calmed down, slower and slower, the sound lessening. 

“I just wanted to talk about this,” Quinn said. Her words sounded so distant, they barely reached her ears. The ringing had not stopped yet. “I wanted Rachel to know what was going on, why I am such a danger to her, to all of you. I wanted her to be informed, to be aware and-“

“Quinn?” Brittany said. Quinn looked up from her knees into pale, blue eyes, trying to smile at her, but the tears in the corner of her eyes prevented the full effect. “I’ll take care of it. Kay?” 

She nodded. 

“I’ll explain to her,” she continued. “Sannie and I, we’ll talk to her.”

“I’m here, you know,” Rachel whispered from Quinn’s shoulder. The tigress turned slightly, looking at her girlfriend, kneeling next to her and trying to cover her completely. “I’m sorry.” 

“You did not know.” 

“That doesn’t excuse us. Me” She could hear them a bit better, the ringing dissolving into nothing. 

“Just, do not use your loud voice again.”

“You’re not the only one deaf, Q,” Santana said. “Hobbs here has some wicked pipes on her.”

“Be nice, Sannie,” Brittany said. “Quinn, I promise, we’ll take care of it later, and-“

“No,” Quinn replied. She shook her head and lead back on her knees. “Please, just tell her now, so Rae can understand this, understand all of this. You know it all, Bri. You and San can tell her what she needs to know. I-“ She cried softly and tried to burrow into the space between her knees. Not that it would do much good. Her ears were on top of her head. 

“Quinn, I will never leave you,” Rachel said, shifting a bit until her mouth was right next to her ear. She twitched at the breath, and in any other circumstance, would have grown hard at the touch. But Quinn struggled to hold everything back. To keep the sound of the world from deafening her. To keep from lashing out and hurting people around her. Footsteps walked down the empty hallway. To keep her bones from exploding and reforming, breaking skin and muscle as she shifted in the most painful way possible. Like she had at first. 

She was past all of this. She was past August and the hell she went through in dealing with her life. All of the suffering and torment that her acceptance had brought her. The acceptance was subtle and swift, no pain any more that came with it. She was a tiger and human, both at the same time. It was truth, why now? Why now of all times?

Because you are terrified she would never accept you, Quinn told herself. You know that if she knew everything, everything you knew about the world now, she’d run scared. A heartbeat paused at the entrance, calm and steady. There was a reason Quinn had wanted to be open with her relationship with Rachel, and it had nothing to do with being ready. She was terrified of what the population of Lima would say, would do, when they found out. But it was one of the few ways she could get Rachel to stay with her, to show that she was willing to step beyond her fears and worries and just be with her. 

Rachel never wanted to hide, even if she never said it out loud. She was proud of who she was, who she was with, and did not care who knew. Quinn wanted to give that to her. She could do it. 

Maybe, if she was not so afraid, even if she could act her way through it, Rachel would stay. But the truth was terrifying, and if Quinn was not forced into the situation, she would have ran a long time ago. She was good at running. 

The three other girls jumped at the knock, though Rachel pulled Quinn closer, and she just leaned into her in a moment of weakness. A moment that she would never admit to. Ever.

The door opened, and Brittany jumped to her feet. Santana was standing in front of them. Rachel just pulled her tighter, sliding her body between the door and her. That was nice. The hand on the back of her neck never stopped either, which was very nice. 

“Whoa, s’up, ladies?” Puck said. He slide into the room, dropping his bag in the pile next to the door. Quinn looked up from her knees. Santana was crouched, her hands flexing, trying to grip something, probably Puck’s neck. She could hear the cracking of bone and almost snapping of tendon as she worked whatever energy she found in the room. “Looking good, Baby Mama, though that shade of orange is a bit new. Liked it when it was blonder back then, but still, looking good. As always, those ears and tail are absolutely adorable.”

Tail? Ears? Oh, God. She had accepted her tiger-self, at least partly, why? Why would she do something like that? Quinn was not comfortable or happy, or even content. She was freaking out and scared beyond anything that Rachel would not accept her. Now Puck was making it even worse. 

Santana darted forward and slammed him against the closed door, picking up off the ground. “What the fuck you doing here, Puckerman?”

Puck just smiled at her. “Chill, Satan,” Puck said. “It’s kosher.”

She pulled back slightly and slammed him against the door. Quinn jerked and covered her ears again as Santana continued to yell. “You fuckwad. Answer the goddamn question, or I swear-“

“Or what?” Puck said. Quinn looked back up slowly, able to see over Rachel’s arms and Brittany’s form to the smiling boy, no man. He wrapped his hands around her wrists easily, though did not squeeze or pull away. “What will you do to me, warden?”

“You know?” Brittany asked, shoulders relaxing. “You know what she is?” Puck nodded. “That information didn’t come easily, or even freely, how did you – oh, I understand. Yes. That makes perfect sense. Puck, would let Santana go now.”

“Let me go?” Santana growled. She tried to pull back one of her hands, similar to one that Quinn had seen her use on an outgoing senior last year who called Brittany stupid, but they remained where Puck held them. “The fuck?”

“While, I’m pretty sure you’d kill me, rather easily in fact,” Puck said, smiling at her, “I’d really like to meet some college chicks and show them how awesome the Puckmeister really is. So I’m gonna let go and you’re gonna go back to Britts, kay? Kay.”

“The fuck that is happening.” Santana pulled back again, trying to hip toss him, but Puck remained on the door.

“Puck, release her now,” Quinn said. She did not growl, and she did not need to. Whatever Puck was, whatever power he had, it was not stronger than Santana’s or hers. Only for the moment, he had the upper hand, but when he let go, when he released the wild anger of Santana, she could kill him if she wanted. At most, Puck caught her off guard. Hopefully. Maybe. 

“Right, sorry.” He let go and landed on his feet with ease. Santana on the other hand, fell back into Brittany’s open arms, nearly knocking her over. “Seriously, San, you’d kill me, and I’d-“

“She’ll do no such thing,” Brittany said. 

“This being ordered around sucks,” Santana added, only to cower under Brittany’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“Remember our agreement.”

“Written on my ass in lipstick.”

“It’s still valid.”

“Lost bet?” Puck asked. Santana growled, but nodded. 

“So,” Rachel said, letting the syllable drag out for a bit. “I’m pretty sure that everyone here, but Quinn needs to tell me just what the hell is happening right now. I get my tiger here, that’s pretty clear, but everything else? Yeah, y’all need to start explaining right now.”

“You are,” Quinn looked over to the girl who was between her and the door, her and everyone else. She had moved them in such a way to protect her. “You are staying?”

“As long as you are with me? Yes, yes I am.”

Rachel let go of her neck and twisted so she could push herself up, pulled Quinn’s hand with her as she stood. Quinn slide to her feet and let herself follow Rachel, rejoining the group. They sat down only a few feet from where she was, but Rachel positioned Quinn so that she was between the tigress and everyone else.Puck moved to grab the chair she had at her easel, though paused when he looked at the painting. He gave a brief smile, moved the stand out of the way, then pulled the chair over to them, straddling it and leaning on the back. “So, who goes first?”

“You do, fucker,” Santana said. “Who the fuck-“

“A Godsire,” Brittany said. Puck’s smile brightened. “Am I right?” It was a term that had not come up with her mom, and while they covered a great deal of rumors and ideas, like wardens, the various groups who use by that title specifically, druids, wizards, and so many other things besides the Hunters Quinn was worried about. But it was all rumors, nothing concrete or complete. While she knew more about herself and the world she found herself in, she did not know as much as Santana or Brittany for that matter. 

“What the fuck is that shit?” Santana alternated between staring at her girlfriend and glaring at Puck.

“My pa, dead-beat fucker that he is, came from a long line of blacksmiths and mechanics, various titles and such,” Puck said. “When the bastard left, didn’t leave much behind, anything until recently.”

Brittany was practically bouncing, her hands clasped in front of her and wide smile on her face. “When crafting, no creating, became easier.”

“Well, only practical things,” Puck said. “I’m good at things that have a purpose, that are meant to be used, even if they are good to look at.”

“Vulcan,” Brittany smiled at him. “It’s Vulcan isn’t it.”

“That and Hephaestus are the more common names, but my infinitily great-grandfather went by a lot of names: Tvastar, Goibniu, Volundr, or Seppo Ilmarien are a few of his names, but he went by many, more than I could find.”

“What are we talking about?” Rachel asked. 

“Puck’s ancestor, the one he gets his, what would you call it?” Brittany turned to him.

“Gift?”

“Sure that works, his gift.” Puck smirked. “One of the few things he left me besides memories and some scars.”

“Noah, what is going on? Please, just tell me-“

“The world is so much bigger than you can imagine, Rae,” Quinn said from behind her. If anyone was going to scare Rachel with the truth, it would have to be her, if nothing else so that she understood the gravity of the situation. “Seriously, I am a tiger that transforms into a human, for His sake.”

“And?”

“What do you mean?

“I fail to see how that is important right now,” Rachel replied, looking over at her shoulder. “You are you, Quinn, and nothing will stop me from loving you.”

“Really sweet, Hobbs,” Santana said, “but this shit is so much worse than you can comprehend.”

“Then make me comprehend it.” Santana looked over to Brittany. She was sitting cross legged, leaning forward a bit and drawing something with her finger on the carpet. No one said anything, no one moved. Instead, they just watched whatever the blonde was doing, waiting for her to respond.

“Plato had it right,” Brittany finally said. She looked up from whatever she had created, though Quinn could not really see any definite design or anything; the medium was carpet and it was all just lines and squiggles formed out of opposing directions. 

“Who?” Puck asked.

“He said that when we leave the cave, when we see the world as it truly is, we can never really explain it to others. They don’t have the same reference as we now have. They don’t have the words we now have, or the ideas we now know. All they know is shadows on the wall.”

“Kay,” Puck said, drawing the word out. “That makes no sense.”

“She needs to see it,” Quinn said. “She needs to experience it, really experience it. Not just the brief things she has seen, like my partial acceptance or fleeting sights of Santana’s whatever, or the stories we have told her, well, mostly my stories.” She let go of Rachel and glided up slowly, then stepped away from the group. “She needs to leave the cave.”

She removed her shirt, revealing a white tank-top underneath and a lack of a bra, this was not planned at all and part of her really did not want to do this but Rachel needed to know, and dropped her hands to her belt. Santana whooped and Quinn looked up at the four sets of eyes staring at her. Puck was smirking, Lord, she had sworn never to be naked in front of him again; Santana and Brittany were smiling, the former possessed a bit of wickedness while the latter just had understanding; and Rachel was blushing. “C’mon Baby Mama,” Puck said, “Show us what the good Lord gave you.” 

“Puck. Turn. Now.” Quinn froze in place, her hands locked over her belt.

“Aww, don’t be like that, just let it all hang out and-“

“Noah, turn around.” Rachel whipped around quick enough so her hair flew into her face. “You turn around right now, or I tell your mom what happened at Halloween.”

Puck paled, drastically, dangerously so. What had happened that Halloween besides the drunk bastard who had intended on attacking Rachel and hurting her and was scared so much he passed out in his own urine? Quinn really did not want to know. It could never be important enough that she needed to know. Puck stood up and turned around before Rachel spoke another word.

Her girlfriend nodded at the man-child, then returned her attention to Quinn, offering a gentle smile. She reached out and rubbed her leg. Quinn wished that it would have calmed her down, slow her beating heart, but she was going to accept herself in a small room. 

Quinn finished unbuckling her belt, removed her tank top and dropped her pants. Rachel was the one who made a noise this time, and the cool air reminded Quinn just what her partial acceptance meant. There was no turning back now, even though she was showing her friends her flaccid penis. Feeling extremely warm, she turned around, finished undressing and pushed the pile of cloths at her feet away. 

Leaning against the wall, she exhaled as heavily as possible, trying to relax her shoulders and back. But everything was tense, ready to pounce at a moment. Which meant it would hurt so much more. 

Quinn closed her eyes, and let go of the hold she had. What she had found in the few months constantly practicing with her transformations was the idea of being both human and tiger at the exact same time. Her in-between form was a compromise and easiest to maintain, but while accepting that form, she held onto a little of her human-self and little of her tiger-self. To fully move from one end of the spectrum to another was to release one side and grab hold of the other tightly, dragging herself from end to end. Even partially accepted, Quinn had miles to go before she was fully tiger. 

She gasped as her back arched and bones cracked and broke under her skin. Ripples of muscle and sinew transversed her skin as they pulled on the bone and cartilage to extend her form. One shoulder popped, loudly, and in the background, behind her own body killing her, Quinn heard Rachel gasp. She squeezed the wall, holding on to it as her legs lengthened, her knees reversing, and her toes stretching into claws. Another loud pop, her hip this time, and she fell to the floor. Quinn felt the tears on her fur that should have traveled down her face, but paused as her features shifted. Her cheek bones shattered and drew in substance from somewhere as they pushed out further and further. She wanted to scream, but that would require vocal cords, which she was not so sure she had any more. Her skin felt heavier as the fur grew longer and courser. Her breasts dissolved away, flattening into woven steel.

Her legs kicked out further as her claws dragged down the wall, gouging into it. Then her spine lengthened, pulling itself further and further. Quinn roared as the electric waves travelled up and down every nerve in her body. She would have shook, except she could not move, nothing could move. The acceptance continued on: muscles contorted and pushing outward in odd patterns, bones awkwardly lengthened in ways that should not have been possible, and patches of fur grown at uneven rates. 

This was the point where Quinn tended to black out, at least a little bit. When the acceptance was almost complete, but the one final push that would make her appearance tiger tended to be something she did not want to experience and had yet to, thankfully. Everything dissolved into blurry whiteness and the sounds distorted until it was an unpleasant buzzy howl. Her body did not hold itself up any more and she fell to the ground, though the floor was much softer than she realized. 

Somewhere, in a very large field, very far away, Quinn heard the gentle sounds of a lullaby sung by a crying angel. Two hands, no two sets of hands, very soft and kind, ran up and down her fur, trying to scratch the skin beneath it, though she barely was aware of them. There were four bodies in this small room with her, and her hind legs pressed against the back walls, with her forepaws rest just a few spaces from the front. The voice was very beautiful, though the crying was not. 

“Oh,” the angel said, “Quinn, you didn’t-“

“She did, Rach,” a crisp and sweet voice said. . A set of hands stopped. “You needed to see that it was real, very real. Come here.” 

“She didn’t have to do that,” the angel repeated. “She didn’t have to torture and hurt and – Barbara, is it always like that?”

“Hobbs,” a third voice said, distinctly vinegar and sugar filled its words. “Just come here. You need to feel this.”

“I didn’t need to see this to know it’s real,” the angel continued. “I was aware when she chased me at Halloween and snuggled with me. I knew then.”

“You knew a good day,” the second voice said.

“Shit, that fucking sucks.” A hearty-bold voice said. 

“Yes, it does,” the vinegar and sugar replied. 

“Does it always go like that?” The angel stepped closer, a field closer. 

“No,” crisp-sweet said, “sometimes, most of the time, she has good days, where it’s easier for her.” The angel was another field closer, and Quinn could smell the sweet berries that were her aura. “Quinn wanted you to understand, Rach, to know just what she is. You see her as this human-mostly thing, with a bit of tiger in her. This is her real form. Everything else is just something she tries to be. Everything else is just covering.”

“Quinn is Quinn,” the angel corrected. She was a few feet from her. Quinn leaned towards her, pushing a body away to get closer to the angel. “She is both the tiger and the human.” She wished the angel was right. Maybe she was. The Lord would not have sent her to the tigress had He not thought she required His love and guidance. Her angel.

“Sweetie,” sweet-crisp continued. “That maybe be true, but-“

“There is nothing else to say,” The angel knelt down against her. Quinn felt the knees on her side and a set of hands run up and down her back for a moment before one settled just at the base of her neck. “Brittany, I know you want me to understand that Quinn is probably a wild and dangerous animal. Fine. I accept that. But this is Quinn. And while I’m pissed at her for doing something so stupid as to hurt herself in order to show me something I already knew, I-“

“Rachel, listen for once,” Vinegar-sugar said. Quinn perked up and turned to look at the source. “Just listen.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Brittany said, “she is both, but sweetie, it’s what this all means.”

“I don’t understand,” the angel replied. 

“If Quinn is one idea, one concept of what the world is capable, then there are others, countless others. It’s not limited, it’ll never be limited.” The crisp-sweet stepped closer. Quinn wanted to growl, but a slow drag of the angel’s hand on her neck paused the sound in her throat. Crisp-sweet knelt next to them and smiled at her angel. “The point of this isn’t to tell you about Quinn, it’s to tell you about-“

“Me,” Hearty-bold finished. “It’s about me and Satan here.” 

“Why does that matter?” The angel asked. “You guys.”

Quinn watched as hearty-bold walked slowly over to them, a bag in his hand. He knelt down in front of the females, pouring the contents out. It was scrap and rubble. “The strangest thing about this,” he continued, “isn’t the strength or the wisdom that I was gifted, but this.” He picked up the pieces of whatever, they all looked so small in his hands, and slowly twisted and worked them, adding one after another. “It’s nothing to do with the physical, but the innate ability and knowledge? That’s freaking.” 

Hearty-bold held in front of him an object. It was not interesting. But her angel thought it was. “Is that, what did you, Noah, I-“

“It’s just a toy,” he said. “It’s meant to be played with and used and enjoyed. Quinn can tell you about how I cook these days. But what no one knows is the workshop I built under that old shed in the backyard. No one knows about the furnace and forge I molded and formed from scratch. No one knows about the weapons I have made there.”

“Noah, what-“

“I am a smith, Rach.” Hearty-bold placed the object between them. “I create things with a purpose. And in my line, the real purpose we had was to destroy. I probably have some ancestor who makes art and music better than I can, who creates enjoyment for the sake of enjoyment. But that isn’t me. That isn’t what I was blessed with, the power I have. I have these designs and ideas of weapons and tools that you couldn’t believe possible. Things that would destroy the world ten times over. Things that would reshape and reform Earth into anything I wanted it to. And the worst part? I know I could build them right now. I want to build them right now. The cooking, the toy making, the weapons? All of that is just to distract me from doing what I really should be, could be, doing: preparing for war. I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that.”

“And Puck has it a bit easier than I do,” Vinegar-sugar said. “He at least has some knowledge, some method to hold back what he is. He’s not trying to fight a tornado or mudslide with every breath, every movement, every second.”

She walked over to the girls next to Quinn and sat down near crisp-sweet. “My Mami told me once about our history, I’ve mentioned that druidic past right? That we’ve come from a long line? Doesn’t matter, really, Hobbs. What does is what I am now. My family, all of my brothers and sisters and my Mami, we have a purpose, a singular and ultimate goal in life that we can’t escape: to protect. My brothers have found places, homes to protect. Whether it’s a small town outside of Atlanta, or half of LA. My sisters look at the bigger picture and work for organizations that help better the world, that protect the unfortunate. This isn’t just some charity work we do, some lip service. You need to know that. And we don’t just protect as a mundane would either. We are much more than that. Rach, give me your hands.”

Her angel pulled away slightly. “What? Why?”

“It’s okay,” Crisp-sweet replied. “It won’t hurt you.”

“I promise,” Vinegar-sugar added. “I just want to show you what it is.”

“How can-“ Her angel let go of Quinn, and she wanted to growl again, but her focused on the Vinegar-sugar’s movements, reaching out slowly and just holding her hands palm up in front of her body. 

“Have faith, Hobbs, it’ll be fine. Just take my hand.” 

Quinn leaned down a little bit and pushed the angel’s back with her nose. Vinegar-sugar was okay, maybe. She could trust her with the angel. Her human-self knew that well. That Vinegar-sugar and Crisp-sweet were humans who would protect her and her angel, and while Hearty-bold-now-smoky was a bit of a stranger, with the other two she had nothing to worry. She hoped. 

Her angel looked down at her, kissed her forehead then turned to Vinegar-sugar, holding her hands out and waiting for the other woman to move. 

Crisp-sweet sighed heavily and grabbed Vinegar-sugar’s hands. “Stop waiting and just do it, Sannie,” she said, then placed them under her angel’s.

Bright green light filled her eyes, and Quinn tried to hide behind a paw and her angel’s back. She pressed her nose against her butt as she started to shake. The room shook as Quinn held herself still, held her angel up. The sound of nothing grew louder and louder as breathing and heartbeats dissolved into the green light. She wanted it to end. It had to end. But this was something Quinn possessed no knowledge or understanding. She had to trust Vinegar-sugar, if for no other reason than she trusted her once. 

The light died down and her angel leaned back into her, breathing heavily. Vinegar-sugar fell over completely, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. Crisp-sweet gathered her up, and Hearty-bold-smoky dropped a jacket, her jacket, over the collapsed girl. 

“Quinn?” her angel said. She lifted her head up and looked down to her angel. She was so small leaning against her, curled into her. “I’d really, really liked my human-girlfriend back right now. I could-“

Quinn roared as she pulled herself in. There was no question as to what was required of her, of what her human and tiger-self knew: Rachel needed her. It was just the issue of collapsing all of her mass now. This would hurt. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord, this was a long break. I played a lot of video games, a lot. To the point where I really did nothing else. Except finish this. Which took forever. Because Puck of all people wouldn’t cooperate. Bastard.
> 
> Anyways, I finally touch on Quinn’s transformation, a bit more about the world that I started to talk about the previous chapter, as well as define some of what the other characters can do, though not necessarily by name. I hope this answers some questions. I wanted there to be more, but I couldn’t extend this any further without feeling like I padded the chapter. 
> 
> Once again, I fail to own Glee and its characters(FUCK RYAN MURPHY), but grats on Christ Colfer, Naya Rivera, and Lea Michele on their wins at the PCA.
> 
> As always, please read and review, and most importantly, enjoy.  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	13. Chapter 13

Dec. 2nd

They couldn’t meet up until seven the next night, not for the lack of trying though. Rachel’s dads had wanted to take her out to dinner, an apology for the weekend. Quinn was invited, though she paled at the idea and shook her head. Not that she really blamed her girlfriend. Things weren’t right between Quinn and the adult Berrys and as much as she wanted to make them so, that would be between them and her. She would just have to push them to make the right decision, that’s all.

Tuesday brought more homework, lessons and practices, but Rachel demanded, and Quinn smartly gave in without a fight, that they have their conversation that night. It was important that they actually discuss just what happened in the art room. 

After Santana showed her whatever it was inside of her, energy, magic, life, mana, Rachel didn’t know the word to use, she shivered and really wanted to feel Quinn’s arms around her. Which was stupid because the transformation, no acceptance, there is proper terminology that she must use now, was extremely painful at the moment, and Quinn nearly passed out returning completely to human form. This only led to a guilty feeling Rachel who dragged, ran more like it, Puck out of there to Glee, leaving her girlfriend to be dressed and taken care of by her bff and her bbf’s girlfriend. She was a coward, but honestly, she hated that she was the reason why Quinn even felt that way and needed to wallow in her self-pity. She hated herself and needed to leave before Quinn saw her crying. That would have only fueled her girlfriend’s guilt complex.

The rest of the day and this morning, she avoiding Quinn a bit, though told her that she just needed a little time to deal with everything. And it wasn’t a lie, she did need to deal. Not with Quinn. Never with her. Rachel felt she made this point very, very clear to her girlfriend, though the hurt still shone through. What she needed to deal with was the idea that Puck had some sort of mythical ancestry relating him to Hephaestus and Santana was a, well, Rachel left before she could learn the actual word, but druid seemed appropriate for the moment. The power she used wasn’t her own, but rather the Latina channeled the Earth’s energy to protect its inhabitants, especially those who can’t protect themselves. Which was weird given that she decided to focus on Brittany and Quinn, and now she was added to the mix, which was kinda cool in a way that made no real sense. 

Brittany talked to her at lunch as Santana had to deal with some silly school hierarchy thing as Head Cheerio, and Quinn was working in her studio, finishing up her projects for the semester, alone. Away from Rachel. Because she asked her to. Which made things much worse as far as Rachel felt.

They talked a bit more about what the whole exercise in scary people with power she didn’t understand was about. Rachel was a newborn in the world and lacked any real understanding, which meant when she really got involved, and given that her relationship with Quinn was on track for permanency, she would eventually be involved. She had no talent, or at least, nothing readily known, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn something at least. She wanted to learn some things, at least to not be useless to her girlfriend. Besides the sex with Quinn’s tiger-self. She was sure she’d be awesome at the sex. 

The lunch conversation lead to Brittany not allowing her to hide, so now, Rachel stood on the porch of the Fabray resident, holding a plate of “I’m sorry” cookies for Quinn in hopes that she could forgive her for avoiding her, even if she really wasn’t avoiding her.

Rachel had been waiting for five minutes, which was distressing because she was extremely prompt and arrived at the agreed time of seven pm. Either Quinn was punishing her for not taking the time to discuss the recent events and revelations or something was incredibly wrong. Rachel hoped it was just the former, though she had a really good argument for jer actions, with power point presentation and everything. 

The house was expansive, larger than Rachel though would ever be necessary for two people to live in. It had been a while since she had been over, though their busy schedules had prevented any meetings at Quinn’s house, and they had only a few at Rachel’s. But when she was here previously, she had the feeling that both Mrs. Fabray and Quinn had no desire to really stay in it any longer than they had to, and they had to simply because Quinn was still in school. After they graduated, the house would probably be sold and the proceeds used to find someplace else where there were no memories of a horrible man trying to control them. 

Finally, after seven minutes and thirty seven seconds of waiting, the door opened and Mrs. Fabray was standing at the door, a washcloth in her hands and a smile on her face. “Rachel? Why didn’t you ring the bell? I wouldn’t have known you were here except Quinn asked me to check for your car.”

She blushed and looked away. “I told Quinn I’d be here at seven.”

“Ah, okay,” she said, as if it made sense. Which it should. Rachel Berry was a very prompt person. This was a fact. Like Quinn was a tiger. “Would you like to come in? Quinn will be down in a minute.”

“Yes, please, thank you,” Rachel replied and stepped into the Fabray residence. “I, um, I made these for you.”

“I’m sorry’ cookies?” Mrs. Fabray raised an eyebrow, exactly like her daughter. Rachel blushed under the glare/stare of the mother. She wasn’t very good with mothers, what with not really having one. “Is there something you should be sorry for? Should I be having a conversation about why you hurt my daughter, missy?”

“No, I mean, maybe, I didn’t mean-“

“Mom, can you do the interrogation after we talk? I need her to function for it,” Quinn said as she came down the stairs, throwing a sweatshirt over her naked torso, and well defined abs. Rachel could never forget those. She licked her lips before looking up to the gentle smile of her girlfriend right in front of her.

“It is only proper that as your mother I learn what this young ladies intentions are. Especially since Frannie isn’t here to give her a proper interrogation. We had those lights installed in the basement for a reason.” Rachel swallowed heavily and wanted to hide behind Quinn. Interrogation? Lights? Was she gonna be wacked? Because she really wanted to lose her virginity to Quinn before that happened. Maybe that was the reason why Mrs. Fabray had decided this route. She knew about her plan. Well, revised plan. Quinn changed everything and Rachel couldn’t be thankful enough for that. 

“Mom, seriously.” Quinn wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Rachel would have been really thankful for the gesture had the glare/stare not been in play. 

“Oh, fine.” The eyebrow lowered on Mrs. Fabray, but the smirk didn’t disappear. “I’ll just take these cookies into the kitchen and not share.”

“Not cool, Mom,” Quinn said. “Not cool.” 

“The study is open,” Mrs. Fabray said down to Rachel. “I started a fire there and it should be settled a bit for you. Quinnie told me how cold you get sometimes, she’s a catch isn’t she, and I-“ 

“Thank you mom.” Quinn pushed Rachel out of the hallway, though she couldn’t stop laughing at the older blonde. “Really, we will call you if we require anything.” 

She had yet to explore the rest of the Fabray house, but the study was exactly as she had expected one to be in a “rich” person’s house. Except there were actual books, which was weird. Quinn stopped pushing her once they were fully inside the room, where a small fire was burning in, its only proper location, a fireplace. The dark browns of the wood of some orient type were practically glowing under the light, and there was a rather large chair sitting right in front of the fire, a small table with a large coffee mug next to it. 

“Here,” Quinn slide her hand down to hers and pulled her to the chair. She climbed into to it and dragged Rachel into her arms. As she snuggled into her embrace, the tigress pulled a blanket from underneath with just a toe, seriously, her girlfriend was way too limber for her own good, and covered them. “Just here.”

Rachel smiled as she relaxed into Quinn’s arms and tried to burrow deeper, pulling her arms around her shoulders. She had been cold since the conversation, not overly, but just a cool sensation that sat under her skin and refused to leave her. She was still uneasy about the whole thing, though Rachel had figured it was mostly due to her girlfriend’s own unease. 

“You wanted to talk?” She asked. Quinn nodded into her hair. “Are you mad at me?” Her hair shook. “Then what’s wrong?”

“You okay with this?”

“With what?” Quinn dragged a hand down the front of her shirt, getting caught for a moment on her shirt before tracing circles on her stomach. “With the magic?” Quinn shrugged. “A conversation only works if two people are talking, kitty.” She bit her neck lightly before sucking at the skin. Rachel tried to pull away, but the arms around her held her close. “Behave, kitty. Talk first, then fun time.”

“Fine,” Quinn said, breathing onto her neck. 

“Quinn?” The tigress tightened her grip on her, pulling Rachel as flush as possible in her lap. 

“Hmm?” 

“Words. Now.”

“Kay,” Quinn said, then nuzzled her neck again. Now all she could do was wait. Quinn would take her time, gather her words, and speak when she was ready. But at least Rachel had put her foot down, however much she didn’t want to, in regards to other activities. Her fathers didn’t have a set curfew, but that didn’t mean she would abuse the system they had in place. There were rules after all. 

So Rachel was content to rest on a comfortable chair with a really large warmer wrapped around her, watching a fire. Fire was a rarity in the Berry residence, mostly due to her Daddy’s inability to keep it from jumping to other places than where it’s supposed to be.

“I love you,” Quinn whispered into her ear.

Rachel sat up straight, her hands tightening on her tigress’ arms around her waist. This was not what she was expecting. They were supposed to be talking about magic and her possibly being involved in some strange things going on. And not that she didn’t hate the idea of her girlfriend loving her. It was fantastic and required a song to truly show how amazing it was. She had known Quinn loved her, truly loved her. She never needed the words to make Rachel know it, she wasn’t that type of person. Which meant for her vocalizing something like that, some big emotion that probably frightened her greatly. More than it should. 

Things had changed so much in the past few days, and Rachel was worried that Quinn would run. Really run. Far away from her, over some stupid idea that it was to protect Rachel from some stupid Hunter, stupid Jesse St. Jerkass showing up when he wasn’t wanted, who was apparently scarier than the name actually suggested, which was weird but she could run with it as long as her girlfriend wasn’t going to run out on her. Really, it was just a scrawny kid who looked like he needed a meal and a make-over for a different reason and- Damn Santana for making her aware of these beauty things. The knowledge was taking up room for other things, more important things, like Broadway. No, Jesse was not scaring away her girlfriend, or her name wasn’t Rach-

“I am keeping you until the world’s end, Rae,” Quinn said, “So stop worrying I am breaking up with you over some noble idea that you would be safer without me. You are mine and that is not changing.”

“Oh,” Rachel replied. “Good, I mean, as you should, because I was just about to tell you how-“

“The point of telling you that was so you would not rant right now, sweetie.” Quinn kissed the back of her neck and pulled her deeper into the chair, wrapping a leg around hers. Her tigress was way too flexible for her own good. “I need you. I do not think I could do this without you. Without Brittany or Santana, but certainly without you.”

“Smart kitty.”

“I have been top of our class for four years straight for a reason, Rae.”

“I hate you so much for that by the way.”

“Believe me, a lot of people did,” Quinn sighed. “Apparently, they thought that something as silly as pregnancy and a baby was actually going to slow me down. Mike was not happy with me for a while, though that mostly meant him not looking at me when we were not talking. Serafine was beautiful, Rae.”

“I know,” Rachel replied. 

“I,” she swallowed heavily then pushed her face into Rachel’s hair. “I think I would like to have another one.”

“What?”

“A baby, one day,” Quinn said. Okay, this changing topics and moods was going to give her whiplash. But at least Rachel held still for a moment while her tigress spoke. “I want to carry another one.”

“Okay.” She traced circles along her arms, settling into the embrace. No sudden movements, or else she would scare off the most elusive of all animals: a talking Quinn. 

“One day, not any time soon, really, but when, in the future after everything is settled and I know we are safe.”

“We?” Rachel spun in her embrace, though almost got completely tangled in Quinn’s legs. She ended up in an awkward position with her legs bent in a slightly different direction than her chest, her head turned a bit more, just to look her in the eyes. 

“Of course,” Quinn said. “That is part of what I want to talk about.”

Rachel smiled brightly. She had so many smiles, practiced so many for various purposes in roles that she would need to be able to bring up at a moment’s notice, but this one hurt her face. It was a smile she had almost forgotten it had existed. She rarely used it, if at all. The first time in a long time was when Quinn asked her to be her girlfriend. Previously, she could only remember smiling like that when she was elementary school, when she had befriended someone before they left her at middle school for being weird.

“Really?” 

“Yes? Why, is it-“ Rachel finished spinning in her girlfriend’s embrace, almost tearing herself free to that she was in between her legs, all of her weight on the blonde, face in her hands and pressing her lips as hard as possible. 

Quinn arched into her, moaning in a closed mouth, and just accepted it. Which was better for both of them, because she really, really needed to kiss her at the moment. 

“Hun?” Mrs. Fabray said. “If you want to continue speaking to Quinn, you’re gonna have to let her breathe.”

Right, breathing. Other non-Broadway-hopeful people probably needed to breathe a bit. She had practiced so much on it that it was just second nature to take and hold as much as she need at any given time. Rachel relaxed a bit, pulling back just enough to let Quinn gasp for a moment. She smiled as a bit of color returned to her face. Superior breathing finally paid off. And she had the right to say she kissed her girlfriend breathless. Which was so cool. Why had she stopped again? Oh-

She tried to push back fully now that her brain caught up with the idea that Quinn’s mom walked in on them. Specifically her trying to swallow Quinn’s face. Rachel wanted to look on the bright side of it. At least she wasn’t trying to swallow Quinn’s head, she guessed, though now she really, really wanted to do that, though it would be a waste really because-

“A bit red there,” Mrs. Fabray continued. “Trying to corrupt my daughter, Ms. Berry?”

“Rae is very expressive,” Quinn added. Rachel felt a strange meep escape her throat and stuck her face in the crook of Quinn’s neck, trying to stop the onslaught of some very, very naughty thoughts about what she wanted at the moment. “Can I help you, Mom?”

“I was wondering if it was time for me to join the conversation. Like you asked?”

Quinn shrugged, though held Rachel closer if possible. “If you want. I was worried that-“

“Please, from everything you’ve told me, that girl could never say no to you.” 

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Rachel said from Quinn’s neck. Though now the thought of Quinn commanding her to complete what she started that first Friday of their acceptance of their mutual-attraction filled her mind. 

“I do not need to hear about my daughter’s sex life,” Mrs. Fabray replied. “I still like to think of her as this virginal perfect girl who will never be touched by anyone and be a nun for the rest of her days.”

“I have had a baby, mom,” Quinn bit out. Rachel kissed her neck and slid her cheek up and down the bare skin. God, she felt no bra-strap under the sweatshirt. Was her tigress completely commando? So many things. So many things she wanted to do to her. They were in private right? She could make Quinn forget about that cruel remark about being pure from her mother, which probably was either a running joke with her or a slip of the tongue. Rachel wanted to slip her tongue into-

“Immaculate conception. Now, do you want to continue your conversation or could it wait until I’ve said my piece?” 

Quinn sigh and slid her hands underneath Rachel. Yay, she was going to get lucky, hands were on her breasts and pushing her off of her girlfriend. No, this was not lucky. This was the opposite of lucky. She was being cock-blocked by her girlfriend. Not cool, Quinn. So not cool. Teasing her like that. Rachel glared at her as she was pushed into a sitting position, though was met only with an ice cool face. Oh. Maybe now wasn’t the time for the sex times. 

“Yes, it would probably be for the best,” Quinn said. “I do not think that Rae would want to talk after we talked.”

“I can tell sweetie,” Mrs. Fabray replied. Rachel looked over her shoulder to see the woman tapping her nose. Oh. Right. She was very expressive with her body. Stupid teenage hormones. “So, our talk first then you two can have teenager time until ten, sound good? Good. Let me get a chair.”

Mrs. Fabray walked out of the study, avoiding the rich leather (those poor cows) chair behind the mahogany desk. Rachel turned to Quinn. She shrugged and twisted them around so that Rachel was still in her lap, though facing forward now. Her bare feet grabbed the blanket and pulled it back up to cover their laps. “I will explain later, okay?” Rachel hummed a response, though just tried to relax completely in Quinn’s arms. 

They sat in silence, watching a fire that apparently did not die, or wasn’t even close to dying, while waiting for Mrs. Fabray to return. Rachel counted the seconds, mainly because it was a way to stop thinking about how she really, really, really, wanted to slide her hand up the sweatshirt to- Bad Rachel Barbara Berry. You need to be behaving. She started her count again, having only reached twenty nine.

Three restarts later and reaching thirty seven the last time, Mrs. Fabray returned, carrying a sturdy chair from what Rachel could only guess was the dining room, in one hand and a platter of fruit in the other. She smiled as she placed the latter on the small table and the chair in front of them. “Okay, so. The Talk.”

“Mrs. Fabray, as important as it is to be well educated, my fathers have done a good job of telling me about puberty and everything, including the safe-“ Quinn covered her mouth with a hand, rather quickly again. She did this last time and Rachel couldn’t get back at her as her mouth was smirking at them, so no grinding for the moment. Later, when they were alone. Yes then. 

“Well, as much as I would love to embarrass my daughter right now, that will have to wait later, when Santana and Brittany are here to assist.”

Quinn groaned into her shoulder for a brief moment before situating Rachel so she wasn’t straddling her anymore. Which sucks because she really liked that position. Why was-

“No, Rae,” Quinn finally said once she positioned her in a spot that was comfortable but non-sexually suggestive. “We are going to talk about what that conversation means for me. And for you. Specifically us. San and Puck, they did a fine job of taking you out of the cave, but it is my job to explain the world to you.”

“Well, more like my job,” Mrs. Fabray added. “I told Quinnie that I wouldn’t share some of the details unless you were with her.”

Rachel glared at her tigress for a moment; Quinn breathed heavily before releasing her mouth. Freedom. Sweet Freedom. “Thank you, Quinn,” she said. “This is important then?”

“Ignoring the Hunter situation that Quinn has brought to my attention? Yes, it is very important. Let me tell you a story, Rachel, and maybe by the time I’m done, you can understand just why this knowledge is dangerous and precious.”

Despite arriving promptly with the promise of alone time with Quinn, Rachel was also promised some answers. So she sat as quietly as she could, as still as she could, which meant she only spoke every few minutes with questions and interjections, as well as constantly shifted and twisted in Quinn’s lap. 

Were-tigers were products of their environment, when the People were being overwhelmed by the supernatural and the preternatural. Prayers and pleas were sent to the heavens, the seas, and the land, scattered in the four winds, for something, anything to come and help protect them. Mother, who had gone by many names and many forms, drew the greatest creatures of the land, the strongest, the smartest, the most loyal: Tiger, Wolf, Bear, Hawk, Leopard, and Wolverine. Six races, the ones She trusted and adored more than any, including the People, were brought up out of the darkness so to speak and into enlightenment. These were-beings were not man turning into creatures, but the reverse, and more dangerous because of it. Each guarded the People, teaching them how to protect themselves, showing them the power of Mother. The strength of Her Body, the earth. The wisdom of Her Soul, fire. The warmth of her Soul, water. The endurance of Her Life, air. They were the harbingers of the tools the People used to protect themselves. They were revered and so was she.

Until the People, until Man, became jealous. Spreading lies and rumors, slowly turning the People against their Guardians, turning their given tools into horrible weapons and their minds against their message. Most went into hiding, away from civilization, in the Wild where they could live and do their duty, what they were gifted to do by Mother until the end of time, until She extinguished the hearth. But Tiger? Tiger was proud and rightfully so. They had helped the People carve out an expansive civilization that stretched from modern day Germany to the Pacific, creating a fertile and wonderful Eden. But Man saw nothing but things that he did not create, he did not own. But his lies were not enough, his words fell mostly on deaf ears in Tiger’s sanctum. Most. 

Some people, those we now call Hunters, took up the calling of Man, and slowly began a campaign of genocide against Tiger. Killed in manners that could never be traced or bound with irons and steel, the Hunters gave little option: servitude or death. We choose the latter and they came with weapons of unknown origin and power, in dark flame and cold gaze. Hunters slaughtered the once-mighty Tiger and her decedents, until our numbers were so few they grew prideful and left us to die off, all because we would not bow to a race that stole their power and did not earn the right to rule. 

The Eden Tiger had formed dissolved within years. Across the world, the havens created for the People died, leaving man to use superstition, fear, and dying knowledge as their weapons against their old enemies. Wolf and Bear continued to fight from the forests, protecting the People, the true-believers the best they could, against all odds. They thrived, in a manner that would be very generous, but their numbers are not what they once were. Leopard stepped into the shadows, hiding away in shame for its own inability to save his people. Hawk continues to watch, waiting for her time to return to her duties, when she is needed once again by the People. Wolverine sleeps, forgotten as the world rolls past it, for her purpose is gone, and she knows not what to do any more.

“And Tiger?” Quinn said. “What happened to them?” Rachel heard the question Quinn really wanted to say though, the words that existed under the need to extend the story: what of us. What are we doing now?

“We scattered to the edges of the world, as far as we could away from Man, where we waited to return to Mother, for we were no longer needed and would never be bound by the Hunters. We waited and waited, slowly losing what made us us. The once mighty race, the power and the strength of Mother, now down-“

“To two,” Quinn said.

“No, sweetie,” Mrs. Fabray said. “One.”

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

“I,” she swallowed and looked away, “I accepted a long time ago that I would never be one again.” Rachel heard her words as well: I accepted my subservience to my husband. I abandoned my race. “Frannie, she never wanted to learn, she just saw it as a story. At least until Quinn accepted her life in front of her, and it was too late for her.” 

Mrs. Fabray offered as gentle smile as she could, and Rachel ignored the tears that sat on the corners of her eyes. “Quinn would never bow to anyone, to any Man. Even when trying to make her father proud, she could never be broken, never controlled. The Tiger in her refused it.” 

“Never felt that way,” Quinn said. 

“My greatest shame is not that I gave up on my people, but that I gave up on you. That I sat back and did nothing as you stood up to your father and honored the life within you. That when the time came, you took a stand and refused to budge. You broke the last chain others had you, and all that was left was the chains you created for yourself. This summer? Those chains shattered so brilliantly. My Lucy came back. And I thank Mother every day for it.”

“What does that mean for me then?” Rachel asked.

“Because despite how the modern day animal called tiger can be, our people mate for life. We find who best suits us and remains with them, until death do us part. Our vows are our life.”

“It is why Mom has not remarried,” Quinn added. “She honors the words that he does not, and will until he leaves this world. I have offered a few times to hasten it, but sadly, that is not an option, apparently. Something about laws and respecting them and all those fun things.”

“Which all of this brings to you, Rachel,” Mrs. Fabray offered her a smile. “Do your fathers know of your relationship? The commitment that you have made.” 

Rachel blushed under her gaze. While Mrs. Fabray proclaimed that she was no longer a fierce feline predator, nevertheless the diva felt the gaze that all prey do when a superior creature, one that could slaughter her at a moment’s notice. “I have informed them in the vaguest of sense that Quinn is it for me, and I see myself with her for a long, long, long time.”

The glare was replaced with a smile. “Excellent, then this segues into the most important part. Christmas.”

Rachel loved Christmas. And Hanukah. Holidays. She loved holidays. When Quinn mentioned that she wanted Rachel, and in turn her fathers, to join the Fabrays for Christmas, even though it was only a day ago, the thought lightened her step and almost made her skip. Almost. Thankfully she had some control at school. But, here, they were cementing the idea of a family, a two-family Christmas. She had dreamed of doing something like this in her future, when she was twenty-five and a Tony under her built, but to have it so soon, and with someone who loved her (she had resigned herself to a loveless marriage as was on course of what Broadway was, focusing solely on her career) and wanted everything with her. 

“Yes, Quinn and I were thinking that maybe, even if it was just for a night, you and your family could join us for dinner. And by us, it’d be Quinn, myself and Frannie and her family.” Rachel really, really, wanted to squeal. In her loud voice. But Quinn would not like that, so she held it the best she could.

“Blessed fuck, Rachel,” Quinn yelled, pushing her off of her lap. 

“Lucille Quinn Fabray!” Mrs. Fabray said, though she didn’t yell. “You will watch your language.”

“You pushed me!” Rachel said from the floor, kicking out a foot and slapping the ground.

“Stop with the screaming, Rae.” Quinn had pulled her feet up and curled into a ball. 

“Oh, right.” Her girlfriend couldn’t handle loud noises. Which would really suck because Rachel had figured herself as a screamer. “Sorry. I’ll try to be-“

“Please, just not now,” Quinn said into the back of the chair. She was trying to squeeze herself down into the edge, which was difficult since her head was touching the top of it and her legs barely fit on the seat, as her tail hung over the edge, oh. Right. 

Rachel slowly pulled herself up until she knelt in front of the chair. She started to reach out, but paused over Quinn’s bare leg. She shifted again, drawing herself into a smaller ball, well, as small as she could at the moment. The tigress barely fit on the chair any more. “Quinn,” She whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Just,” Quinn replied, “just not now. Please, I, I am sorry. Rae, I-“ She pulled her knees up completely, tucking them under her chin. Seriously, her girlfriend was way too flexible for her own good. She should not be able to fit in the position she was- Down Berry, you hurt your girlfriend, and you don’t get the right to think sexy thoughts. 

Rachel crossed her arms on the edge of the chair, inches from Quinn’s bare feet. “I’m sorry, kitty,” she said softly. “I should’ve known, really, I-“

“Rachel,” Mrs. Fabray said. Rachel didn’t move from looking up at Quinn. She was pulling her ears as flat as she could against her head, her nose buried in the corner of the chair. Why would she speak at a normal tone at a time like this, when her daughter could barely listen to anything? “It’s okay.”

“I hurt you,” Rachel said. “Again.” For the third time really. Oh, Barbara. Thanksgiving was the first time, and- “Quinn, I’m so, so, so…” 

“Rachel,” Mrs. Fabray repeated. She placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Quinn is okay.”

“I hurt her.” Rachel didn’t want to move. She couldn’t move. Quinn was in pain, and-

“Yes, and it’s not your fault.” She knelt down next to her and covered her hand. “Quinn is-“

“It is harder these days,” Quinn said. Rachel snorted, stupid teenage mind. “To keep the tiger away. Not just because of, you know, you, Rae. But-“

“People skills are not Quinn’s forte,” Mrs. Fabray said.

“This has been too much,” Rachel said. “First the failure that was Thanksgiving, where you missed song, Quinn, songs. Then the whole Jesse thing and now revealing all of this. You’re scared aren’t you?” She could only assume that Quinn nodded as she refused to lift her head from the seat. “You’re terrified. That’d I’d leave you.”

Quinn didn’t move.

“We’ve been moving so fast, so very fast,” Rachel continued. “And it’s understandable that you’re frightened, because despite my small size, which if you repeat that to anyone, especially Santana, that I am admitting I fall on the shorter side of average, I possess a very big personality and have the tendency to be overwhelming with it, in regards both to my music and my relationship, which leads me to the belief that-“

“She really can ramble, can’t she?” Mrs. Fabray said. 

“I know,” Quinn replied. 

“Very adorable.”

“I know.”

“Huh?” Rachel looked up from her perch to see a bit more relaxed though still very tigery Quinn smiling down at her. “Quinn, you need to understand that I’ve been running to you for a very long time, I’ve been trying to be friends with you since middle school. You’re the one who rebuffed me, at least until this year. And, kitty, you’re the one with the running problem, not me. So don’t think your inability to deal with my loud voice at the moment is something that-“

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Fabray squeezed her shoulder, lightly, enough to make her look over to the woman. She smiled down at her, trying to offer a bit of comfort, but Rachel wasn’t really sure how to deal with it. 

“Rae?” Quinn said. Rachel turned to her girlfriend, a weak smile on her face. “I know you will not run because of fear or anything that would question your courage. You are the bravest person I know. You accepted the friendship of three girls who had no right to ask that of you, and you have never wavered in that relationship. That is real bravery.”

“But this is not about bravery, Rae. This is not about fear or terror or safety or anything remotely connected to that. This is about our future. My future.”

“Quinn, I don’t-“

“I am the last of my race, and I need to ensure our continued existence. You took biology, remember?” Oh, stupid genetics and too similar genes contaminating species. Right, that. 

“So you need to have kids with other people?”

“Maybe, I do not know. I mean, there could be others out in the world right now, but as far as our limited knowledge tells us is that I am the last. So children with other people is a possibility that might need to be explored.”

“You want to have sex with other girls?” Rachel said.

“No.” The answer was quick and strong. 

“Then, I don’t. Oh, so what like the IVF fairy or something? Artificial insemination? Because I guess I could handle that, and-“

“I need a big family, Rachel, a really big one, and maybe not just from you,” Quinn said. She slide down from the chair until her legs were wrapped around her and she stared down at her. “Not just the two point five kids in the white picket fence. There needs to be more than that.”

The pair didn’t move, though Rahcel heard Mrs. Fabray adjust her stance so she was kneeling, which probably was more comfortable than a crouch. She just listened to the large grandfather clock, trying to focus on Quinn’s sweatpants and not what she was sure was underneath them. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Huh?” 

“I mean, kids, at least the number of them is something that seems like at least an after sex conversation, maybe after college as well,” Rachel squirmed in her spot until Quinn stilled her. She couldn’t look her in the eyes. Maybe at least this one time her ability to ramble would be useful. Well, useful for Quinn. It was always for her. “If this is about me staying with you, making the plans for wedding and stuff, I’m okay with an early engagement, though again, all of that is something we should discuss before kids. And in no way is this a no in any form. I’m just asking if this can at least wait until I’m on Broadway once? I’d really like to have stories to tell our kids, other than just being a mare to meant solely for breeding.”

“Rae, I do not-“

“I would have loved a brother or sister.”

Quinn pulled her flush and rested her chin on the top of her head. When had she gotten so big. Not that it was a bad thing. Her breasts were slightly bigger and- seriously she needed to keep her mind out of the gutter, there were more important things to be discussing. 

“It will always be there, I am afraid,” Quinn replied. Oh, stupid filter failing completely, this was not the time to voice all of her fantasies and- “Really, Rae, please stop talking. I do not think Mom wants to hear any of what you are muttering about.”

“Oh, please, no,” Mrs. Fabray said. “Continue, I want to see how red my daughter’s face gets.” 

“Back on topic,” Quinn said, she pulled away slightly enough so she looked down at Rachel, her face relaxed and trying to smile. “Rae, I do not understand, though I think I do. I think I have a grasp on what you are trying to say, but-“

“One day, after we’ve discussed it fully and without anyone else around, so there is no other pressure than just what we want, yes, I would love to have your kids. I thought I made it perfectly clear earlier when you talked about wanting to give birth to another baby, which would be so adorable, though I’m not sure how it would work, but I am confid-“ All other words were dissolved into Quinn’s lips as the tigress pulled her tight and moved them in such a way that she was slowly being lowered to the floor without straining any part of her. 

“I think our Talk is over for the moment, so I’m gonna leave before, welp, too late. Quinnie, please remember that I’m in the room before you – No? Okay, I’m gonna leave then and let you continue to molest your girlfriend then. Remember until ten. Enjoy sweeties. And Rachel, thank you. I know it’s a big – You know what, the rest of what I want to say can wait until later. Night you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much shorter than I originally wanted. In fact, I cut about a third of what this chapter was, maybe more, because the next portion wouldn’t make sense to split, and it is really important to the plot. Yes, there is one. I’ve finished mapping it out, and in the words of my brother: “I hate you, that’s an awesome idea, but I hate you and die in a fire.” So it’s going good to say the least.
> 
> Rachel is hilarious to write from, especially the further I get with her character. These two are becoming easier and easier to write. In fact, so is Brittany who tends to be the hardest character for me to build around because there is nothing in canon. 
> 
> Anyways, I own nothing, and sadly with the 100th episode soon upon us, we must send sacrifices to the OTP Gods so that at least fucking Ryan Murphy doesn’t screw things up (These are futile prayers, but we must do something anyways). I’m playing in their sandbox, stealing their toys and making thing right again.
> 
> As always, please read and review. To my many follows and those who favorite, welcome to the insanity. Join because of the characters, stay because Quinn would murder you if you left Rachel. Seriously. It wouldn’t be pretty. 
> 
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn ran through the forests that outlined Lima with an abandonment she had not felt for a very, very long time. She made no tracks: no paw prints, no fur on the trees, or even a scent that was in the woods. In fact, she doubted that even a sighting of her would be possible. Not with the amount of life and power and love she felt.

Dec. 5th 

Quinn ran through the forests that outlined Lima with an abandonment she had not felt for a very, very long time. She made no tracks: no paw prints, no fur on the trees, or even a scent that was in the woods. In fact, she doubted that even a sighting of her would be possible. Not with the amount of life and power and love she felt. 

Whatever anyone wanted to call it, magic, mana, life, it was all about perception and emotion, how a person can relate to it, and how it changes them and they change it. For Quinn, from the stories that she was able to get from her mom during the week, the Tiger clan were once mighty mages, capable of augmenting their physical selves in ways rivaled the Fae, whoever they were, and second to only the Wolverine clan in straight up magic use. Her mom did not have any real information, other than myths and suggestions for the library, which was annoying, but beside the main point she got it: her acceptance was based solely on her idea of self. 

The vision she saw of herself in her mind, how she felt about herself and her surroundings, even the way she saw other people, all of it affected her in positive and negative ways, often at the same time. It was why she had been struggling at the beginning of the week in keeping her tiger-self down; she was frightened of so many things and the tiger-self wanted to lash out and protect her. He, Quinn finally reconciled that her tiger was a male, took in every detail, no matter how small and processed it so she could act. Just sometimes not act properly. The intake led to a sensory overload for her human-self. She could not handle all that information, and her extremely loud girlfriend only added to the issue.

But that problem was on hold for the moment. The fear and anxiety was held down by the elation that Rachel was okay with her oddity, really okay. Quinn side-stepped a tree and dove under a low branch, skimming the ground. When she first learned about acceptance and subsequent transformations, Rachel responded with joy and excitement, but she did not know all the details. Quinn did not know all the details. Her mom finally brought them to the light, she was ready to hear them, and needed to share them with Rachel. 

Her lineage, her power, her purpose: Rachel knew it and accepted it, fully. She wanted a future with her. She wanted children.

The concept of children, even abstract and wishing, was bittersweet. Quinn missed her Beth. Giving her up was the right choice. The thought was the only way she could accept giving up her daughter. She was in no place to care for a baby at the time, and while she could offer love, she was not able to offer shelter, food, and safety. One paw, then two, then four up a tree until she could climb no more, Quinn jumped from limp to limp, from tree to tree. She could not be the mother she wanted to be, she should have been. Giving up Beth was the right choice. It had to be.

Rachel wanted more. Children. With her. She wanted to carry them and help her as she carried them. Quinn was pretty sure she could still give birth, but that was a situation that would come in time, when both of them were ready. The idea was enough to satisfy her tiger-self. 

The Glee girls were having a sleep over at Rachel’s, everyone but her. Quinn called off that morning, when she struggled to maintain some sense of decorum in the school. A rabbit was awake and she chased it for a minute, releasing it from her mighty jaws without a scratch in it. She had been struggling since Tuesday night, when Rachel allowed her finally go down on her, letting her return a favor she had not been able to. She was able to release most of her sexual tension, something that Rachel enjoyed greatly. The night had been wonderful, and after the sexual aspect, they curled up on a couch Quinn dragged to her basement over the summer, a television on and mindless conversation filling the dark room. It was perfect. They had a future, a real one.

The school week had been slow and calm. No Jesse, no more murdering of Skanks, which Quinn hoped was due to Santana putting the fear of God within St. James, no issues with Mercedes fighting over solos. In fact, Glee was going wonderful, and Rachel was enjoying directing and helping from the sidelines. She would be a wonderful teacher, once her ego was put aside. She waited outside a foxhole, smiling at the little brother as it stared back at her. Schue was okay with her, though he was more dealing with it. Not that he had much choice. Between Quinn glaring at him and Sue yelling at him, he had to accept the role of the diva. 

That the cheerleading coach was on her side, in a great deal of things, and was showing up whenever there was a hint of trouble following Quinn, would have been frightening, but it was nothing new. The fox came out and sniffed her before rubbing against her cheek and taking off into the night. Not really. Even when she was removed from cheerleading due to Beth, Sue watched out for her, keeping the worst of it away. There was not much she could do, but what her coach did was enough to keep her sane. Like Santana and Brittany that year. The hierarchy had to stand. It always needed to stand.

Quinn learned a bit more about magic from Brittany during lunch on Thursday, at least enough to know that she was stronger. Her best friend taught her how her magic worked, or at least, a better understanding of her own magic, which led to her outing the next night. Santana pulled her aside during her free period and told her, no more like commanded her, which was really weird, since her avenger rarely ordered her, the boundaries of her protection, the true borders of Lima. Quinn chased the fox, following it step for step, over tree and creek. She did not understand just what the Latina could do, but that she was capable of some great deeds and acts were enough to make her wary. Not in fear in being hurt by her, but fear for her. Trust was never a factor. If Santana said something, followed with a sincere please, Quinn would have been a fool to ignore it. It was the closest to a command Santana would give her.

Within the boundaries of Lima, which varied from a mile outside the outskirts of the town to five hundred yards within them, Quinn stayed. It was nice that most of that space was either open farm land or forests. 

She stopped short of her chase as the scream of some creature pierced the night. Pierced at least her ears. Twenty yards east of her, downwind, in a clearing just within the border of Lima. She covered the space in seconds. 

Quinn paused in the thick brush and watched as a man in a ragged longcoat stalked around a small being some twenty-thirty yards away, though she could see barely any details beyond the man, which was strange. The vision was either fuzzy or dark, she could not tell. That fact worried her. 

Nevertheless, she could see enough to know this was not a good situation. He held a jagged knife in one hand and a pick in the other that dripped of some liquid that smelled like nothing familiar. She smelt fallen rain and iron, though, which grew stronger as she inched forward. The voice of the man, laughing in glee at the being’s pain, was one she wished she could forget.

“Fucking clueless gnome,” Jesse St. James said, kicking the figure. The gnome, whatever that was, repeated its cry of pain and tried to move away, but its ankle, leg, limb, whatever, was caught in something. “Thinking that you could hide?” He kicked it again. “Thinking you could fucking run? From me?”

As she slinked closer and closer, the fuzziness dissolved into moonlight and everything sharpened, the smell included. Blood. She caught the strange scent of the gnome’s blood, though its only wound was the beartrap its limb was trapped in. But St. James was dripping in it, his jeans and boots were covered in the blood of a non-human. None of it was its, though. Oh Lord, what had he done? What had he done? “Oh, it was fun, a nice little chase, you scurrying about, and all that jazz, but did you really think – no fuck that, your kind doesn’t fucking think.” He suck down with the pick, purposely carving a gorge on its face, from forehead to jaw.

“You just take and take and take-“

The gnome spoke, or at least, its mouth moved and some strange sounds were produced. She did not understand a single thing. Neither did St. James, though that did not stop him from kicking the gnome over again, and standing on its trapped leg. The cry was weak, exhausted. The gnome barely raised its arms against another swing of the pick, pinning his shoulder to the earth. St. James laughed the entire time.

Toying. He was toying with his prey. Oh, Lord. What kind of man was this?

Her mom would have called him a Hunter. Santana would have called him an evil bastard. 

“Well, as much fun as this is,” St. James said, “I have a caravan to burn to the ground.” The gnome howled, not from pain but from rage. Quinn knew that sound well. Whatever will that was within him, however much extinguished it was before, lit anew and burned hotter and brighter. He swung a fist at the Hunter, hitting him in the chest only to bounce off. All its action earned him was a punch to the face, shattering its nose or skull, some bone there.

“No, you get no say in this,” he continued. “You have no voice.” His voice stumbled through the field as he kicked the gnome again.

“You and your kind are trespassing on the land of Man.” He stood up slowly, though kept a foot the gnome’s chest. “Traveling around, stealing from hard working humans, sucking dry our resources to feed your ever breeding cripples and retards. I name thee Blight and it’s time to die.” The joy, the absolute joy in St. James voice grasped her heart and squeezed it.

He leaned down on the gnome, grinding him into the ground. It just breathed out weakly, but still kept fighting, or trying to. “There’s that fight, that will to exist. Such a strange thing to see in a beast. Oh, but it’s so beautiful. A stolen diamond in a cesspit. IT’ll be even more beautiful when I tear it from your body. My face, my power, will be the last thing you see, blighted one, and will be the last thing your caravan sees as I tear what you have stolen from Man from them. I end this now, Blight, enjoy the emptiness I send you to.” The gnome screeched. St. James ignored it. Quinn could not. He raised the dagger into the air. 

She was surprised by the roar that erupted from her throat. It did not seem like her to be that, well, aggressive. Her anger, her strength, was never really physical or loud, but icy and calm, a storm front that would shatter the will of lesser students. But the pounce from the brush towards the Hunter? No, that was exactly like her.

Quinn slammed her shoulders into St. James, sending him tumbling away from a gnome. She stepped over the creature, a large paw on each side of it. If nothing else, she could save this one being, one life. She could do that. 

The Hunter struggled to climb to his feet, swaying back and forth on fully upright with his back towards Quinn. He whipped his head around, pointing the dagger towards nothing. “Who’s there?” he shouted. “Show yourself.” 

Quinn growled at him. How she wanted to speak, to say the words that would force the student populace to tremble at her presence. But for now, the tiger would have its say. It knew more of this world than she, if only by instinct.

He turned to face her, almost falling over. For a moment, he could not focus, his eyes darting back and forth and taking in everything but her. She tracked his movements, watching the gentle twitches of his eyes, the blood dripping down his chin, the heavy breathes he struggled to take. “Who-“

Quinn growled louder, bearing her teeth. “I demand thee to name thyself,” St. James shouted. 

She leaned forward and tried to emulate the glare of the HBIC. This would not happen while she was aware. Never. Not in her home.

The dazed look on St. James face slide away, and he stood up straighter. The smirk returned as he spun the dagger and pick in opposite directions, any fear or anxiety slipping away. “A cat? A fucking house cat? Some stray were that stumbled upon the rightful duty of a Hunter. Pity that you should die-“

The roar tore through her, from tail to nose. Her body sung electric as she screamed in protection. 

“Kitty got bite,” St. James replied. His face darkened in night. The still perfect teeth expanded as that smile grew. Flicks of white danced in his frigid glare. “I love it. Maybe you could offer the challenge I need. Unlike those wretched beasts that talk.” 

The Skanks. Oh Lord. St. James killed them. This pathetic excuse of a man killed two strong were-wolves. He butchered Trish and Miles and played in their entrails. He tore them to pieces for the fun of it. Did he act this way with them? Taunting them about how he would end their lives, the lives of their loved ones?

“Will you give me that, pussy? A last hooray before I skin you for that pelt? I won’t wear it, but it’ll be fun to –“

Quinn bellowed again, and St. James stepped back. No more. Not now. Not again. He will not be allowed to walk free. He will not get away with this. I end this.

“It speaks!” He shouted, laughter overflowing from his words. St. James spread his arms and spun around. “Oh, what an adorable pallor trick. What else can you do, pussy-cat? Hmm? Can you do a little dance? Should make you perform for me before I tear those rotten teeth from your muzzle? I do love a good performance.”

She spoke? Quinn relaxed and stepped back away from him. She spoke. Words left the tiger’s mouth. Her words. No, their words. For the brief moment, both she and the tiger’s will was the same. Your name Blight, they said.

He laughed again at her. “It’s a parroting, O M G, that’s even better.” He staggered forward, nearly falling with each step. His shoulders dipped side to side. Her head began to pound, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. “You’re not even smart enough to speak, properly.”

You trespass. You die. She growled at him, though the sound slowly died in her throat. St. James continued to move forward, slow and steady.

“It’s adorable how you try to be like Man, to emulate your superiors,” he said, the smirk growing larger.

I end this, stttt. She and the tiger tried to say more, but her eyes burned. Her mouth was dry. St. James’ movements were jerky as he approached her, from side to side. Side to side. Side to side. Never the middle. Just side to side. Side to side. 

“Of course you do,” St. James said. “Of course you need this. And by you, I mean me.” He stood in front of her now, a foot from her face. “You poor beast, probably some wizard’s folly of transfiguration or something stupid again. They never learn.” He sighed heavily, the weapons slapping against his thighs. 

Quinn exhaled, but the pain in the back of her head held her human-self still. 

“Were you beast first? Or human?” St. James petted her nose. “Some stupid fool who thought that you could defy reality and be something great? Instead, you’re this abomination.” His fingers traced along spine, the tip of the dagger dragging against her, nicking her every other step as St. James walked around her. All Quinn could do was track him with his eyes. She shook as he stepped behind her, but her feet remained planted over the gnome. 

“Are you one mistake? Or are there many?” He continued, stopping in front of her. “Is there someone out there who cares a beast like you? Who’s name will you be trying to scream? Who you imprinted on?” Quinn did not see the pick, but felt it slam into her shoulder. Inside she roared and tried to pull away. She just stood still. “There is someone. Someone who you think about.” 

St. James bent down. “Someone who desires you, in fact. A pervert who would dare to love an abomination. A freak of nature.” His words slid further and further away, and Quinn struggled to keep her eyes open. That same darkness around the gnome and St. James filled her sense of self. 

She leapt too soon. She was so sure that this would be no issue. That she, a tigress of four hundred and fifteen pounds with a power the world had forgotten coursing through her veins, would be able to crush a mere human. That Hunters were nothing more than humans with foolish titles. That she could win. 

But Quinn could not move. She could not speak. She could make no sound, no effort. Her muscles burned as she held the crouch against her will.

He leaned a bit closer, and the distance between her and the words closed rapidly. “Maybe when I’m done with you, done tearing that wretched coat from your body, done making you eat your own balls, done making ashtrays from your paws, when I finally allow you to die, I’ll find your little beau and fuck her so she knows what a real Man is. Not some evolutionary reject. Not some beast who only has her because he forced himself on her.”

Images formed within her mind, against her will. She struggled to grasp hold of her cold place, the HBIC place where the Ice Queen of McKinley lived and reigned. There, at least, she would find no imagination to give life to those words. But whatever St. James did to her, whatever hold he had over her, Quinn’s mind was the sight of her fur covering St. James as he stood over Rachel. Her girlfriend’s face held to his crotch, her hair torn away, a hand missing, and bruises all over her body. She saw the blank stare on her face and the dagger in his hand. As he came inside her, he drove down with the jagged blade into her-

No. Never. St. James would never touch Rachel. Never. She screamed. The tiger roared. They exploded from the darkness back into a pale shade of color.

Quinn swung a paw at him, all her claws fully extended.

St. James barely fell back from her. Quinn caught his shirt with just the tips, but it was enough to tear through the weak cloth and even weaker skin. He screamed in a pitch that she would have normally associated with Sugar’s singing but it seemed appropriate for him. As he tried to evade, he dragged the pick out of her shoulder. Quinn struggled to hold her ground and stay away from him as St. James tore a chunk from her shoulder. 

The tiger screamed. She roared.

“What the-“

Quinn lunged at him, both paws in the air. St. James evaded her again, but she caught his thigh a few of her claws, iron filling her nose and covering her forelimbs. Thunder exploded around her when she landed.

Cold azure filled the night.

St. James swung down with the crooked dagger, carving a thin line on her cheek, then stepped to the side. He spun with the movement, following with the pick swung towards her head. 

Neither the tiger nor she made a noise.

Quinn bent her neck just enough to catch his forearm in her jaws, the pick nicking her neck. As she bite down, it fell from his hand. She brought a paw up to his shoulder and drove forward, all of her weight on the human arm. The wrist popped, then elbow, then shoulder. She just squeezed harder over the sound. 

The blizzard of light grew around them. 

St. James wailed and flailed with his dagger, driving it into her shoulders and ripping it back as he was dragged to the ground. But the ground was much stronger than him. Thunder roared in her ears as he landed. She heard the breath escape him, the dagger skidding away, and the intense pounding of his heart. He cried louder and tried to push her off of him, struggling under her grasp. 

The tiger bite harder. Quinn shook her head. Once.

She kept her paw on his chest as she tore muscle off bone, her claws gripping into him, just enough to pierce only the skin. The struggling man stilled, making no sound, but she watched, both her and the tiger smiling at the silent scream and tears rolling down his face. Quinn spat out the meat and leaned over him.

There is no warning¸ she said, her nose almost touching his. St. James tried to reach up, but she pushed down and dug in deeper. He stilled again. This is only a statement. This is mine. This land, its people of any and all races, the air, the water. This is mine. And no upstart thief and murder is taking it from me. 

He stared up at her with water in his eyes. “Wh-wh-what are you?” he said. “I’ll do whatev-“ She pressed harder so he stopped talking. His voice was grating. 

You know nothing of who I am. You know nothing of my allies. You know nothing of my power. My will. There is no warning for you, St. James. 

Quinn relaxed a bit, smiling as blood slowly trickled down cheek from his lips. “You,” he coughed gurgled blood for a moment before swallowing it away, continuing. “You kn-kn-kn-know my-“

There is only a promise. The tiger smirked the best it could at him. Quinn steeled her gaze. You walk away by my grace. By my mercy. There is no warning. There is no second chance. 

She moved to go, but the image he forced on her, the pain of her love hurt and broken and dying, returned in full front. Quinn pressed down as hard as she could, pushed her face into his and roared. Her jaws spread wide enough that she could have bite down and crushed his skull in one motion. I name thee Blight! I name thee Abomination! I name thee Cursed and Coward! I name thee Man. Her words were one sound, as the tiger took over and used all of their breathing power to force him to hear her. To feel her rage. To feel her pain. To feel her fear. 

Beneath her paw, she felt the pounding heart, erratic and unsteady, of the Hunter. And the tiger smiled as he lost conscious. 

Quinn felt nothing. 

She pushed away one last time, and felt the burning enveloping her shoulders. The blood dripping down her whiskers and jaw. Her shoulder struggled to hold her up as she limped away, back towards the reason this started. The gnome was kneeling, staring up with her, azure light surrounding him, coming from him.

No. From her. Quinn dropped her head and saw where once was orange stripes was icy and cold glowing, filling the empty night around them. She was radiant, she was the frozen sun for the moment. But with each step the light grew weaker and weaker. 

Young one, the tiger said, are you capable of returning to your caravan.

It spoke quickly, sounds jumbled together. Quinn caught none of it. It waved its hands about, and she heard the excitement, the joy in its voice, but that was all she heard. She barely heard the cries of birds or the chirps of squirrels. And was that a fox? She never knew the sound a fox made. 

When the time comes, the tiger replied, we shall have Eden again. We shall have our Home back, young one. 

The gnome stood up slowly, speaking as though its lungs were filled with dirt, and continued to wave about. It slowly walked towards her; how did he get out of the beartrap? Quinn wanted to step back, to ready to defend itself. But she remained still. She told herself it was because she was too tired to do anything else. The tiger stood regally, waiting for its subject.

I understand. I shall hurry to my mate and my avenger then, the tiger nodded. That is your repayment. That is your boon. It is all I can ask of you. It is all I will ask of you.

Quinn shook her head as it faltered, then its hands started to glow a vibrant green, brighter and stronger than she had that afternoon from Santana. 

Be quick and steady. Then go, spread the word. This land will be ours again. Find Brothers Bear and Sisters Wolf. Find them. Tell them we are coming Home. 

The gnome stood in front of her, the radiant hands raised slowly. It placed one on her shoulder, a thousand stings lit her nerves. The other settled on her face, cupping it gentle. Quinn met its eyes, seeing the silky mud in its obsidian eyes, the opal teeth filling a smiling mouth. It was kind. It was worried. It was gentle.

Her vision filled with the verdant energy, the life force that coursed with the land, with mana. She was back in the art room for a single moment, as the pain tore through her a second time, ripping out the flesh of wounds and knitting anew, pulling energy into matter and grafting it to her body. Quinn made no sound and did not move. The gnome held her face and shoulders lightly, but it supported her completely. 

Slowly, the world lost its brightness, the moon returning to light the night. No more blues or greens. She would have fallen had the gnome not held her. It gave a gentle smile and a soft pat on her cheek. It stepped back and bowed at her until its face almost touched the ground. As it returned to its full height of three feet four inches, the tiger bowed briefly in thanks. The gnome spoke again, gentle and calm.

Be well, young one, the tiger said. Tell others of our return. Tell them that there will be a haven, and we welcome all who will protect it. Tell them, the time is coming.

The gnome nodded, offered a weak smile and ran away into the taller grass behind her. 

Quinn remained in the clearing. Just the wind, the moonlight, and her. The moaning of St. James was irrelevant. She turned to look where the gnome had run off, but there was no indication of him moving through the grass. It moved like she did. Almost. 

She still smelled the fallen rain and iron; its blood. Traces of it blood dripped through the stalks and moved further and further away from her, past the boundaries of Lima-proper. Past her knowledge of the land. 

The Land. Oh fuck. The land was soon to be a haven, safety for its residents. The words the tiger spoke. She spoke. She had labeled herself as a protector. That she had the power and strength to do so. Oh fuck.

Santana was going to kill her. 

!-!-!-!-!-!

Dec. 5th

The grandfather clock her Daddy bought at an antique store rang eleven. Normally, Rachel would have never heard it; she tended to pass out before one am, even when the Unholy Trinity was sleeping over. Brittany thought it was adorable. Santana thought of her as a lightweight. Quinn would just let her rest on her shoulder. Rachel wished that she was here now.

She stood alone in her kitchen, sipping on a tall glass of water, watching the start of a snow fall. Quinn was out there, somewhere, running as fast as she could. After the conversation on Tuesday, and the subsequent sexy times, everything was better. They talked. They laughed. They had some stolen kisses in various janitorial closets, though it was incredibly hard to find one that had not been vandalized by Santana and Brittany already. Like impossible. She had to make do that she was having pseudo-sexy times with her girlfriend in places that the pair had already defiled. It was a necessary evil, she figured, but one that she could work with and overcome.

Things in glee were wonderful. Even Mr. Schuester wasn’t arguing as much as he used to with her “directing.” While Mercedes was still somewhat a pain, in her refusal to listen to instruction sometimes, it was a start in the right direction. They were working better as a unit, and slowly, instead of simply being a group of individual talents, the club was becoming what it should have been in the beginning: a singular functioning unit. 

Tonight was the culmination of those efforts. The glee girls, all of them, not just the Unholy Trinity in one group, the reminder in another with Kurt and Blaine hovering in and out, and Rachel left out, but all of them nine, well eight really, of them were in one house, without killing each other. It was as if they were friends(FRIENDS!). Rachel barely knew how to handle the amount of people in her home. 

Hence allowing Santana to take charge of the festivities while she was merely the host. That meant alcohol and dangerous truth games and more alcohol and horror movies and even more alcohol. The sheer amount of alcohol would have been impossible to consume by anyone else, but Santana, Brittany and apparently Tina were able to handle most of it. Her best friend forever was rather proud that Tina kept with her drink for drink. It was eerie. 

With the ringing in of the new day, Rachel excused herself from the still active set of girls who were getting a bit loud for her tastes. She needed a break from the excessive amount of yelling at the television screen at the stupidity of the female hero in another horrible horror felt she barely watched. 

“C’mon, lightweight,” Santana said, resting her head on top of on Rachel’s. “You’ve had two and you’re already hiding from us?” For once, Rachel didn’t jump at the touch or sound. She was really tired. Normally, she would have, as she did at one particularly gruesome scene in the basement, moved quick enough away to hide behind some other object. Horror movies sucked without Quinn.

“As I’ve told you before,” Rachel said, “After the last experience with alcohol, I’m attempting to avoid the same events.” Really, high school students should not drink as much as they did. 

“Please,” Santana replied. She dragged her hands down her bare shoulders, tickling her with her fingers. “Brits is making me stop as long as you’re in here and-“

“Stop what?” Rachel squirmed away and moved around the island, dragging her mug of tea with her. 

“Kissing. Cuddling. Drinking.” She tried to follow her, but she kept moving away. “So c’mon already, I want-“

“You drink too much as it is, and if me staying up here stops it, then I’m more than ready to make the sacrifice of those horrible movies and alcohol to save your liver,” Rachel said. Santana paused in her pursuit, staring at her. 

The Latina wore an unzipped hoodie over a tiny cheerio tank top and her sweaters were baggier than she had expected. Even without her uniform, including very light amount of make-up, Rachel felt inadequate compared to her. She wore just enough to frame her face, but she knew that she could never match what Santana and Quinn, Barbara, especially Quinn. What her girlfriend looked like without the effort was possibly even more beautiful than what she did with the make-up. 

“Unless there is another reason to drink?” Rachel asked. “Is something wrong? I’ve read enough materials concerning high schooler-based depression and depression over indulging in various substances, and you have to admit that you do have-“

“Jeez, no,” Santana said. She closed her eyes and shook her head, slapping her face with her freed hair. “No. Just fuck no, Berry. It’s nothing like that. I ain’t Q.”

Rachel stood up straighter. She slowly placed down her mug down on the counter and stepped back from her. No, Quinn was not depressed. She was perfectly okay, and handling everything well, without needing something like alcohol to handle everything. Not that she didn’t have things she needed to handle, what with being kicked out, giving birth at sixteen, the massive ups and downs of high school, struggl-

Two arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into a well-endowed woman. Rachel blinked once, then twice, and relaxed into Santana’s embrace. “I’m sorry. Seriously. That was wrong, I shouldn’t have joked about that.”

“Quinn’s,” Rachel said but any other word died in her throat.

“She’s doing really well,” Santana answered. “Really well. Things are a lot better this year than anything else.”

“I mean, it’d wouldn’t surprise me all things considered.” Rachel sniffed and closed her eyes, ignoring the wetness that was forming. “She has had it pretty bad, I mean really bad, so if those thoughts were-“

“That was never an option for her,” Santana pulled away and forced her to look into her eyes. “You have to understand. That was never, ever, ever a possible option for her. Ignoring religion and the beliefs on the topic, that was something that she would never do. I promise.”

“It would-“

“Berry, we are seriously stopping this line of conversation before you start making me cry,” Santana said. “Neither of us would like that. So stop it.”

Rachel nodded, looking away from her in an attempt to calm herself. She already saw the edges of tears forming and a slight quiver of her lip with every third breath. Letting the Latina see her own tears would not help the situation. 

Santana angry was scary. Santana polite was terrifying. Santana crying was the second worst thing in the world, right behind Quinn crying and far behind Brittany sad, and in front of her never achieving Broadway. This year had really adjusted her standards. 

“Santana,” Tina shouted as she ran up the stairs. Rachel pulled back from her best friend forever and stepped around her, grabbing her mug and forcing it into her hands in the process. She stood between the two gleeks, giving Santana the chance to refill the full tea mug and offering her largest Broadway smile. “Sugar is demanding we watch Saw XI.”

“The first two weren’t enough?” Santana replied. Rachel could hear the moistness in her voice as the faucet turned on and her mug was washed and refilled. Sigh, that was a fresh batch too. “We’d have to suffer through the last one? Of all of them, that one?”

“Right?” Tina said. “The only good parts are the traps and even then, they’ve gotten boring.”

“Can we watch something else?” Rachel asked. “Like a musical or something, because-“

“That girl needs to learn a lot about films,” Santana continued, spinning around and thrusting the glass into her hands. “Grab the first film in my binder, we’re watching that next.” Tina smiled and ran back down without a second glance towards Rachel. “Fucking Saw. Seriously, if I wanted a sixth Sev7n, I’d watch that shit six times in a row before watching Saw fuckin XI. Shit is the worst of them. At least Sev7n was good. Saw I was nothing but a rip-off and terribly done at that.”

Rachel looked down at the cold mug. She’d have to make entire new glass from scratch now. Despite her saving Santana, it seemed it was at cost of a perfectly nice cup of tea. And a terrifying film. She wasn’t sure which was worse. “What movie are we watching?” She asked. 

“Audition.” Santana opened the fridge and frowned at the sight. Rachel had done her best to give a wide selection of snacks, but clearly not enough for the meat eaters. Too many animals had already been harmed in the efforts of tonight, but apparently, everyone else wanted more. Especially Kurt. That Brat. He said he understood the plight of the defenseless animal but-

“Wait, what?” Rachel asked. Her best friend forever pulled out one of three vegetable platters with a larger frown, but ignored her. “Is that movie what I think it is, because I don’t think-“

“Relax, Hobbs,” Santana said. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’ve had to sit through three other horrible films, well six considering you and Mercedes wanted to fast forward through the first couple because they were, and I quote, terribly terrible and not in a good way. And now you’re moving to J-horror.”

“I am shocked,” Santana replied. “You know what that is? You, of all people.” She started to look through her pantry and pulled out a few boxes of vegan crackers, and her Dad’s only box of non-vegan tortured snacks. 

“Stumblupon was not my friend that night,” Rachel said. “We’re watching that of all films?”

“Please. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Santana that is possibly-“

“Fine, whatevs,” She continued to make a second platter for them. “Rach?”

“Yes?”

“I drink because I can finally relax and not worry about pulling it in,” Santana said. 

“Pulling it in? Oh.” After the little event in the art room, she had a better understanding? Idea? Feeling of the whole magick situation. Part of it was difficult to believe, in the idea that there was something greater than, well, anything and none of any one she knew had any real grip on just what it was. But Santana was probably the closest without actually being part of it. She drowned in it, every day. She fought so hard to keep the energy out of her body, and her strong emotions, especially anger, just made attracted it and she either had to control it or it would control her. Worse than any drug. 

“When I drink, when I am coming down after cumming, whenever I’m really, really relaxed, my body goes with the flow, and,” Santana said, shrugging. She refused to look at her, her hands kept fiddling with the vegetables on the platter or the crackers in the basket. How’d she find Daddy’s secret cheese? She’d have to apologize to him later. “Brittany helps, a lot. She keeps me grounded. Keeps me in the now and here.”

Rachel giggled, her hands covering her mouth as she looked away. 

“I know, right? Strangest thing. But she does. You settle it, make the chattering noise of mana quiet. And Quinn.” She trailed off, sniffing harshly.

“And Quinn?” Rachel stepped around the counter and grasped her wrists, pulling them to her side. Santana shook for a second, fighting it very briefly before letting her help her. “What does she do?

“It’s just, I don’t think I have a real word for what she does. I can barely describe it.” Santana stared at the ground. She stood so still. Not like Quinn could, the way a predator could stand like a statue under any gaze. Rather, she stood like a tree, swaying with the breeze, but remaining in place against everything. “Just being around her, it’s like, I don’t know, it’s like breathing in a frozen morning and exhaling the summer’s night. It’s like that last little moment before the sun sets, and you feel the decay of the heat and the gentleness of the night’s embrace. It’s the memory of the last sip of chilled glass of tea and extra lemon. Dias Mia, it’s beautifully haunting, Rach. It’s-“

“Santana! Rachel!” Mercedes said. Her voice really carried when she wanted it to. Too bad she was really lazy and – She should really stop thinking those horrible thoughts even though it would better the club if she could break the girl of her terrible habits. “Get your asses down here. We’re starting the film.”

“Or wait for the pizza,” Kurt added. Rachel stepped back from the Latina, smiling gently at her. 

“Yeah, do that instead,” Mercedes said. “Either way, we’re starting.”

“Fucking hold your goddamn massive tits, girl,” Santana replied. “You’ll be fed like the rest of the zoo, fucking hippo.”

Footsteps pounded their way up stairs and Rachel stepped back as Mercedes emerged from the basement, holding one of Dad’s golf-clubs. “Who the fuck-“

“Need I remind both of you my fathers are upstairs,” Rachel said. She stood across the kitchen, away from both of them. 

“Fine, I’ll kill her softly then.” Mercedes stepped forward, slowly raising the golf club.

“There will be no murdering here tonight,” Rachel said. “I’ll wait for the pizza that you ordered and-“

“Plural,” Mercedes corrected.

“Did you get a vegan one or-“ She lowered the club and looked away. “Right, anyways, I’ll wait here and you two can get down to watching the movie.”

“Bitch does not-“

“That bitch is standing here and will fucking kick your impatient fat ass if you keep fucking asking for it,” Santana replied. The club went back into the air.

Rachel sighed and stepped in front of her best friend forever. “Seriously, just go down stairs and don’t break anything. Santana, go cuddle with Brittany and finish my drink, I think I’m done for the night. Mercedes, I’m sure that Kurt and Blaine will be more than happy to discus whatever you want, but please, just return the basement. I doubt-”

“I’m going nowhere with that fucking slut and-“ This was not what Rachel wanted in terms of a Gleek sleepover, but given that Santana and Mercedes tended to butt heads during Glee and school, it should have been expected.

“Keep your fucking voice down,” Rachel said. She knew that she was reaching the point when her loud voice would be required, but at least she had their attention. “My Dads are sleeping upstairs and I’d appreciate it if you kept your fucking violence at least down to a reasonable, quiet level.”

The girls stared at her for a second before returning to each other. “At least I’m getting some from something other than tater tots,” Santana said, her voice barely about a whisper.

“Oh you did not,” Mercedes replied, at least at the same volume. Progress, she guessed. It would have to do. 

“Course I did,” Santana continued. “No one enjoys watching the way you shove them into your mouth with the grace of a tap dancing elephant, though I guess-“ Mercedes screamed, again kept at a reasonable level. One that would not make her fathers regret having this many people over. Again. 

The rapid knock at the door paused angry, growing angrier, diva, though spark a sense of something in Santana. She was so relaxed and loose before, but the sound tightened everything up in her, and Rachel felt the hum again. 

The knock continued in a consistent four-four one hundred and fifty seven beat for seven and a half seconds before finishing with a solid slam, shaking the door and frame. Then the lights flickered. Wonderful. Just wonderful. 

She hated horror movies, not for the jump scare, but the fact that her imagination tended to run rampant after seeing one. She had avoided them like the plague previously, but with the addition of friends(FRIENDS) she learned that horror films were the compromise she had to make occasionally. Three or four times at most. Usually Brittany called Santana out on it when Quinn couldn’t make it, which was when she had the hardest time with the movies. Not that having Quinn made it easier to deal with, but that she could at least sleep knowing that the blonde would watch over her, and – she was really clueless about the whole Quinn being into her thing. At least she was aware of her own attract, so that soften the blow a little bit, but still. The rapid pounding renewed at a hundred and twenty seven beats, retarding rapidly this time. Another hard slump, and the door shook, but not the frame.

Rachel rushed over to the door, almost sliding into the garbage can next to it due to her adorable bunny slippers, but she grabbed the door handle and recovered. She peeked through the lacy curtains, but the porch light was out and she couldn’t see a damn thing. Rachel sighed and began to unlock the door as the entity knocked three times, with longer periods between them. 

Santana covered her hands and slowly pushed her away from the door. Only one knock before nothing. She stood really close to her, pressing her back into the diva. Rachel looked over her shoulder to see Mercedes a few feet from them, the club raised slightly in the air. The woman was ready to strike at anything, which was hilarious because if there was some serial killer-monster outside, a golf-club wouldn’t stop it. 

She pushed Rachel slowly back, enough for the door to open slightly, though she made no movement to do so. Rachel didn’t want to press any harder into Santana, but the lights flickered again and she jumped against her back. A hand shot out and grasped her hip, pulling her closer to the Latina. Mercedes took in a deep breathe, Santana exhaled, and Rachel stopped breathing as the door opened. 

A naked Quinn was leaning against the front porch swing, her left arm just dangling by her side. The entire shoulder was a battered and chewed up, and Rachel could have sworn she saw bone when Quinn took a deep breath. A gash ran down the right side of her face, from forehead to chin, dripping blood. Bruises covered her once perfect skin and she was shaking.

No. Quinn was shivering. 

Her pale skin had turned almost ice-white, and frost collected on her messy hair. She hugged herself tightly with her good arm, but didn’t bother covering up that she was naked. 

Any other time, Rachel would have loved the sight. Instead, she screamed in her loud voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bah! This was difficult to get right. Mainly because Rachel was no cooperating with me. I blew through Quinn’s portion of this in about two nights. The rest of the time was spent dealing with Rachel and fighting with her on progressing the story. 
> 
> Anyways; I’m trying to answer some questions/respond to some comments. I’m willing to do this more often, especially if something is unclear or you want clarification. Is this a shameless way to get more reviews? Yes. I have no problem admitting that. But I do want to know what makes no sense, or at least call me out on it. 
> 
> w1cked: kinda? I mean we do have the IVF fairy and all, and it’s not like they don’t have friends who would require donors or anything. Friends they are really close to.   
> ShadowCub: Yes, exactly, on both cases. You’ll see at least the thought of that in this chapter.  
> Janeway79: Things are getting a lot bigger here, so we’ll see a bit more of Santana’s role in a roundabout way. Brittany is Brittany.   
> Die Schreiberin: You know what? I’ve committed to stealing from one verse, might as well go all the way, so to answer your questions/comment: yes. Yes it does. It is very important. Just not useful. We’re not going the way of Twilight and having a character with an uber power that defeats all others, because that’s just silly. 
> 
> Once again, I own nothing, sadly. Even if Quinn never got with Rachel in the show, I would have at least encouraged, I don’t know, actual development instead of the crazy no plot must be not used that Ryan Murphy favors for her.  
> As always, please Read and Review,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the reminder of the sleepover heard the scream, Rachel wasn’t surprised that Daddy was the first in the kitchen, followed by Brittany. He pushed his way past the three of them, grabbed Quinn and carried her the two steps to the island where Brittany had all the towels and linens on the counter, everything else shoved to the ground.

Dec. 6th

When the reminder of the sleepover heard the scream, Rachel wasn’t surprised that Daddy was the first in the kitchen, followed by Brittany. He pushed his way past the three of them, grabbed Quinn and carried her the two steps to the island where Brittany had all the towels and linens on the counter, everything else shoved to the ground. 

She stood in the door way with Santana, shivering as the chill echoed through her.

Blaine was the second up the stairs and stepped over to Quinn, grabbing a few towels and pushing them into her shoulder. There wasn’t much blood. Why wasn’t there much blood? She couldn’t remember seeing Quinn or the porch covered in it. Oh Barbara, please, don’t let them.

“Mercedes, call-“ Daddy said.

“On it,” she replied, already pulling a phone from her hoodie and dialing what Rachel hoped was 911. Or anyone, someone. Just make things okay.

Brittany looked once at the injured girl and frowned before stepping over to Santana. Her best friend forever didn’t move. She remained in the doorway, staring at the ground where Quinn lied, taking in short, staccato breathes. Once the blonde touched her, she nearly collapsed, falling to the side into her. 

Rachel couldn’t wipe her face, she couldn’t even feel it. Everything was so numb; her hands tingled as they refused to budge frozen to her side

Tina and Kurt finally came up, but she had to catch him as he collapsed too, nearly tumbling down the stairs with him though. Dad reached down the stairway and pulled Kurt up, then dragged him over to the chair. 

“Sannie,” Brittany said. She pulled Santana completely into a hug, wrapping her tight and leaning over she was almost covered by her freed blonde hair. “Feel my chest. Focus on it.”

“Now is not the time,” Mercedes said. She stuffed her phone in her pocket. “They’re on their way, but the storm is making it difficult.”

Winter gripped her tightly, squeezing the breath from her. 

“What storm?” Daddy asked. “It wasn’t earlier.” Rachel stared at Quinn; it was snowing. A lot. A great deal. Now, with the door closed, Quinn lying on the counter, still breathing, for how long she didn’t know, she could feel that horrid blast of winter pierce through every layer of cloth and human she was until it grasped at her soul and squeezed tight. Her heart was pound, forcing the slush-blood to travel properly. Her hands shook, and she was pretty sure she had no color. But Quinn was more important. 

“A blizzard, freak one too,” Mercedes replied. “Apparently, just came out of nowhere, a freak polar wind or something.”

“Saw a report downstairs,” Blaine added. “While Tina was changing the movie. Massive temperature drops, over a foot of snow in a few hours, gusts of wind up to fifty plus. Expected power outages and such. Said it’s gonna be bad.” He threw the towel away and grabbed another, pressing down harder on Quinn’s shoulder. “We need to get her cleaned up, as much as possible. Bandaged then. Just keep her stable, I guess, until they arrive.”

“So most emergency systems will be focused on that,” Brittany said. “Sannie, I need you to copy my breathing.”

“It won’t be enough,” Tina said. “How can she even still be breathing?” Rachel took a step towards Quinn, shaking through the frost she felt like were coating her legs, then another. She was breathing, but barely, the breaths slow and long seconds apart. She didn’t move as Blaine put pressure on her shoulder, or while Dad started to clean her up the best he could, wiping away blood, snow, and dirt. He covered her nakedness the best he could, a dish towel over her perfect breasts (stupid teenage boy thanking God they weren’t harmed), and another thrown over her hips. 

“I don’t know,” Daddy returned holding his medical kit. He kept a spare filled with various odds and ends that he thought were important for any emergency. He placed it between Quinn’s legs and pulled out a saline bag and an IV. “Tina, I need you to hold this.”

“Is, is it gonna help?” she asked. She was barely standing up, but at least she was. Kurt hadn’t moved from his chair. Rachel couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open. 

“Until the EMTs arrive,” He answered, though looked over at Rachel, frowning, “I hope.”

It was the thought that Rachel knew everyone had. No matter what they did, how they helped, their efforts were going to be worthless. It was a miracle that Quinn was even still alive. Oh, Barbara, what had she gotten into? What did she do? She didn’t deserve this, no one died. They were supposed to get married one day. They talked about kids. Barbara, they still hadn’t had sex yet, and Rachel was certain that she would be very good at the sex. 

It wasn’t right that she was focused on that part of their relationship. But she couldn’t help it. Any other thought would have been about her dying, her in pain, her not with her. She couldn’t handle that. Sex was real and physical and progress. It was where they were headed. It was their future. Rachel needed to hold onto that. 

She needed to ignore her wet cheeks.

“Sannie, please,” Brittany said. “You need to calm.”

“How can I, Britts?” She asked. Rachel barely heard the words from the blonde’s chest. “She’s, Dias Mia, she’s-“

“I know,” she replied. “But you need to calm down. Take a breath and focus on me. Focus on my heart. Focus on the beat. Stay with me. Sannie, please, with me.”

“I can’t control,” she hiccupped and squeezed Brittany tighter. “I can’t do it. You’re asking too much, I-“

“Santana?” Rachel stepped over to them, close enough to where she was almost leaning on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to step those last few inches. “What, are you-“

“She isn’t going to make it,” Brittany said. Rachel sucked a breath in, and Santana froze. “She isn’t going to make it unless you do something.”

“Mr. B’s got this,” she replied, and pressed her head harder against Brittany.

Blaine dropped another towel on the floor. The squishing sound was less evident. Rachel swallowed her breath and turned completely towards the couple. 

“How long,” Tina asked. “How long til they get here?”

“Twenty minutes, from the looks of the storm,” Dad said. He stepped over to Rachel and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, trying to pull her away from the pair, but she froze as she listened to Santana mumble into Brittany.

“I don’t even know how, it’s not like I’ve practiced, even read it, Britts,” Santana said. “What you’re asking of me, what you want me to do-“

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Brittany kissed her forehead and rested her head on hers. “I wouldn’t ask if there was another way. But I also know if you can’t.”

Santana shook her head again, and leaned hard enough to push Brittany slightly. 

Rachel finally gathered the strength to shake the numbness and ease towards them. “Santana?” 

Brittany looked up with a sad smile. She had tried. Whatever it was, she had tried, but she wouldn’t push her any more. Rachel could understand that. But Quinn was dying, bleeding out. Daddy was patching her up, covering her with bandages and rags, belts tied tightly around various limbs and spots to slow the bleed. But her shoulder, oh Barbara. So much was missing. 

“Santana,” Rachel repeated, and took another step towards her. She had to try. At the very least. Whatever Santana could do, if anything, would be more than watching. Then sitting back and- then nothing. 

“Hobbs, I swear, I-“

She grazed her shoulder before sliding her hand down and wrapping it around her waist, pulling herself into the hug. Rachel rested her head on Santana’s shoulder. “Whatever you can do, even if it just makes it easier for-“

“I could kill her,” she said and breathed in heavily, wetly. “Me. It-“

“She’s dying,” Rachel replied. “She’s dying right in front of us.” 

“Hobbs, I could kill her. It would-“

“I can’t touch her,” Rachel continued. “If I do, I’m afraid she’d fall apart under my hand, shatter. I can’t touch her because if I do, I know it’s real and I know she’d dying. Like stepping out onto a frozen lake. I’m waiting for the ice to break. I can hear its cracking under me. Santana, please, I can hear it.”

Santana nodded against Brittany. “Will, will you be there?” She asked. “Both of you? I can’t, it wouldn’t work without you two.”

“What is she rambling about?” Mercedes said. “Mr. Berry, shouldn’t we-“

“Pumpkin,” Dad said. “What are you talking about?’

“I can feel it,” Rachel pulled her best friend forever. “I can feel it coursing through you, like it did in the art studio.”

“It’s raging to get out,” Brittany added. “Just listen to my breathing. Just follow it. I’ll take care of you. After this, after you save her, I’ll be there.”

“She’s bleeding too much,” Blaine said. “There’s nothing I can do. We can do. I, I’m.” Tina cried out, and Rachel pulled Santana tighter. 

“Please.” Rachel kissed the girl’s shoulder. “Anything you want. Anything. Just save her. Save Quinn.”

Santana slowly pulled herself out of the embrace. Her eyes glowed, like actually glowed, with a halo around them and everything. There was no pupils or irises, or even white portions of her eyes. Everything was this bright, vibrant verdant of power. Mana pulsed from her, rebounding in Rachel’s chest with a solid thump that didn’t move her at all.

“What the fuck?” Mercedes said. “The fuck’s wrong with your eyes.”

“Mr. B? I need a stretcher. Quinn needs a stretcher.” Santana stepped further away from them, but not towards Quinn. She moved to the door, turning her back to the room entirely.

“Santana, if we try to move her, she will bleed out. It’s barely slowed at all,” Tina said. Blaine stepped back from her as she took over, 

“And a plant. Something big, something strong and alive,” she said, ignoring her. She turned around and stared at her Dad now, her head slightly tilted and never blinked. “It’s gotta matter. It has to be important. Not like physical-importance, but emotional. Is there anything like that?”

“The oak outside Rachel’s room,” Dad replied. “We planted it when she was born. She’s played, read, slept, relaxed, you name it, she’s done it under it. Except with boys. Or girls I guess. It’s pure, you know? Nothing sexual or anything and-“

“Dad!” Rachel said, stomping her foot. “Not now. Santana, will that work?” 

“Yes, and thank you for the image, Mr. B 2,” she said with no smile or laughter in her voice.

“Why, why would we need a tree?” Tina asked.

“The fuck you thinking about doing to my girl?” Mercedes screamed.

“I just need the bleeding to slow so she can survive getting outside,” Santana continued. 

“With what?” Mercedes replied. “What the hell is gonna stop the bleeding from a fucking hole in her shoulder? You tell me that? She’s dying and-“

“Blaine?” Brittany asked. “Can you help?”

“Huh?” He had been staring at Quinn’s shoulder, occasionally reaching out and tracing the air, but dropping his hand before he touched her. 

“Is there something you could do?” 

“I, I,” he said, still looking at her. He raised his hand again, keeping it level with Quinn’s shoulder and traced something through the air, moving rapidly. 

“She’s not human, completely,” Brittany said. “You’ll have to account for that.” 

“What? Oh, okay.” Blaine looked up briefly before returning to whatever he was doing. Rachel stepped forward, but she froze before she could take another step. Her hands twisted around in themselves and she stepped back, standing still. 

“Hold it,” Mercedes said, reaching for Brittany’s arm but only finding air. The blonde was standing next to Rachel, hand on her shoulder. “Just hold on. What is this about Quinn not being human? She’s, she’s, she’s-“

“Anything else I need to know?” Blaine looked up, his fingers still dancing in the air as he pushed nothing back and forth at different levels. 

“The overall average of all tigers in the world weight between four and five hundred pounds,” 

Mercedes’s jaw dropped slightly and she sputtered out words that Rachel didn’t bother trying to listen. Blaine nodded once before bounding down the stairs, taking them three at a time. She stared at them, then where Blaine had disappeared to, before looking at her dads. “Mr. Berry, we can’t-“

“I think,” Daddy said, “it’s time we trust them.” He nodded at Dad, who grabbed Tina by the arm and dragged her away with him, away from Quinn, hopefully to get a stretcher like Santana asked. It was something. It would be anything. A chance to save her. “There’s nothing else, we can do is there?” The diva said nothing, but crossed her arms and stepped in front of Santana, blocking her from Quinn. 

The wind howled outside, scratching to get inside, and no one else moved. Santana and Mercedes stared at each, or rather, glared in the diva’s case. She wasn’t happy and Rachel couldn’t blame her too much. At least her admittance to this whole mess was handled in a calm and collected manner that involved her being chased by a large tiger. But for everyone else, this would have to be a strange experience. She did not envy them. All she ddi was send silent prayers to whoever was listening to keep Quinn alive. Rachel kept her eyes on her chest, rising and falling rapidly, the towel shaking with each breath. 

The lights flickered again by the time Blaine came back. Dad entered with a makeshift stretcher, two curtain rods with a blanket wrapped around them, Tina following him, frowning. In Blaine’s hand was two small mason jars, one filled with blue and other green. Brittany stepped around Rachel again, avoided Mercedes’s grasp entirely despite walking right by her, and took the vials. 

“Half the blue, then the green, rest of blue,” Blaine said. “It’s the best I have on me.”

Brittany nodded before looking down at the ex-Warbler then back at the vials. He smirked shyly and unscrewed the caps, then slowly pulled the soaked towel off of her. Mercedes moved around the counter and tried to pull her away, but once again, Brittany just slid to a different spot and she reached for nothing but air. 

The blue ooze dripped from the jar and hisses of steam rose from Quinn. She didn’t move. “Will it work?”

“For a human?” Blaine said. “Yes. But for her, since she’s not-“

“Not completely, not completely human.”

“Not completely human, I can’t promise much. It’ll hold for maybe a minute. At most two.”

“I’m not going to stand here and let you kill my girl with your stupid backwater, pagan medicine,” Mercedes shouted. She tried for Brittany again, going for her waist, but Barbara bless him, Dad stepped in front and slowly pushed her back without really touching her.

“She’s dying,” Dad said. “She’s dying, and they’re not getting here in time. The storm is worse. Can’t you hear it?”

Rachel couldn’t. She could barely hear the voices of everyone in the room. Everything sounded so distant. Except for the harsh and staccato breaths of her girlfriend. 

“We can’t just-“

“No one is coming,” Brittany said. She stopped with half of the blue and poured the green substance, which acted more like a liquid now over the wound, then finished with the blue ooze. “The only ones who can help her now is us.” 

“Rachel?” Santana said. She turned and looked at her best friend forever. “When we go out there-“

“In this weather?” Mercedes asked, though Rachel didn’t look over at her. She kept her eyes on the pulsing mana and life of Santana’s. 

“You’re gonna anchor Quinn here, to you, okay?”

“How?” she asked.

“As you would whenever she was angry or sad: hold her hand,” Santana replied, smiling. Rachel could do that. She could touch Quinn. She could hold her girlfriend’s hand and keep her safe. Whatever it took. She’d offer up anything, everything, just for Quinn to open her eyes again. Her hands itched to reach out and grab it now. “Mr. B? Can you and Brit move her? Just slowly. Carefully.”

“Blaine?” Brittany asked.

“Give it a few more seconds,” he said, staring at the mess over Quinn’s shoulder now. The substances twisted and curled together before the motion slowed down until it almost solidified. “You have a minute starting now.”

“Then let’s go,” Daddy said. He took the stretcher from Dad and Tina and walked over to Brittany. She grabbed the other end, and between the two of them, with relative ease, they positioned the large blanket and rods next to the island. Dad and Blaine slid her off onto it, and the two carriers looked up at Santana. A swift nodded and she opened the door into the storm. 

A swift breeze dug into her bones and Rachel wrapped herself up as Santana stepped into the night, into the snow and wind and ice. Everything was so harsh and cruel and she wanted to curl up in her bed, hid under all of her blankets, lights off and everything so far away. She wanted Quinn there. As Santana stepped outside, she didn’t look behind for Daddy and Brittany, but the pair followed her as she walked away from the porch, both of them ignoring the freezing wind. 

Rachel exhaled heavily, closed her eyes and took one step towards the cold. Than another. Then another. She walked slowly, each step hanging in the air for a brief moment before touching the ground again. IF she moved any faster, her nerve would have died and she’d have gone running far, far away. 

Because whatever had hurt Quinn, oh Barbara, was still out there, in the frigid world that wanted to swallow them whole. It remained free, and it would hunt to hurt again. She stepped onto the porch, a few feet behind Brittany and Daddy. A hand rested on her shoulder and Rachel looked up to see Dad smiling down at her. “It’ll be okay, sweetie. She’ll be okay.”

Rachel said nothing. She didn’t smile or nod, or anything. She couldn’t. Instead, she took another step on the path to her tree.

The oak had been one of the free things she treasured from her years in elementary and middle school, a place that wasn’t tainted with taunts and cruelty. A place where she could sit and cry if she wanted to. So many tears watered that tree. So many starry nights had she sat under it, looking out into the open air for hers. The one that would guide her to a place where she would be loved. For someone else, someone besides her Daddy and Dad, to find her and befriend her. Someone else besides her posters and animals to talk to. Someone. Anyone. 

Rachel gave up wishing freshmen year when everything went to hell. She had spent too much of her life wishing on someone else’s star. 

Now, in raging wind and biting cold, they struggled their way over to her tree, where Santana had already knelt down next to it, a hand pressing against the bark. Her eyes were closed, but she still felt that mana coursing around her, swirling in the storm. It was almost warm around her, but Rachel just hugged herself tighter as she followed Daddy and Brittany.

“Here, Leroy,” Brittany said. “Just in front of Sannie, her shoulder right next to her.” Daddy followed her directions, and with an ease she didn’t think was possible, they pair lowered the stretcher down to the ground. “There we go. Thank you. You may go.”

Daddy raised his hand and opened his mouth before shaking his head and stepping back. Rachel walked around him and knelt on the other side of Quinn. Brittany took her spot right behind Santana. 

“Rachel?” Santana said. She swallowed and nodded. “I, I can’t promise anything. I can’t.”

“Can you heal her?”

She shook her head. “I can transfer energy to her in order to speed up her own healing. In theory, that should take care of it. But her shoulder, I don’t know, Rach. I’ll do my best.”

“But your,” Rachel said, “magic, isn’t it-“

“It doesn’t work like that. A balance must be maintained. Matter cannot be created or destroyed. I must uphold that balance. All I can do, with all this energy, this power within me, is move mana, more the lifeforce.”

“Then take mine,” Rachel said. “Take whatever you need from me, just help her. Please.” 

Her best friend forever laughed and finally opened her eyes. Somewhere, behind the verdant light, were the tired and wet eyes of a seventeen year old girl. But all Rachel could see was this old matron who knew more than she ever should. “No, my caps would murder me if I did that. No, we’re here for a reason.” She pulled her hand away from the tree; the same verdant shade stretched from her finger tips to the bark. She twisted her hand around, stretching the lighted stuff, then twisted her hand into a fist rapidly, squeezing all of the light into nothing.

“I need you to anchor Quinn, keep her here as long as this thanks,” Santana said. “I need you to remember what she looks like. Who she is. What she is. Can you do that? Can you keep Quinn in your mind and never waiver?”

Rachel nodded. 

“Okay. Good. Brittany?”

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m ready.” Brittany slid up right behind Santana, one hand reached up and resting over her heart. The other moved down into her sweats and cupped her, almost pulling her up. She didn’t make a sound. Instead, Santana opened her fist, releasing the green stuff into the air, and Rachel didn’t feel as cold as she should have. She put one hand on the tree and the other onto Quinn’s injured shoulder, into the wound. Barbara. 

“Then we’ll start. Rachel, take Quinn’s hands and wrap them completely in yours. Good, now close your eyes and picture her. Remember her sounds, her image, her. Think of her. Hold Lucille Quinn Fabray, Tigress extraordinaire, Head Bitch in Charge, Miss Perfect, Love of your life, Your Mate. Hold her in your mind’s eye. Gather your love. Your happiness. Your sadness. Gather everything she ever made you feel and squeeze it tightly. Very good. Keep squeezing. Keep squeezing, and hold it tightly. Whatever you, don’t let go. Don’t let of her hands. Don’t let go of those thoughts and images. Hold them tightly. ”

Santana sighed heavily and Rachel squeezed Quinn’s frozen hands until hers hurt, until she felt the bone shift just a little bit. “And. Here. We. Go.”

Rachel’s world erupted into green and thoughts of Quinn. Everything else was nothing.

!-!-!-!-!-!

Santana tapped her head once, twice, then a third just to be sure, against the wall behind her. Her eyes constantly slid down, and her legs had given up on her an hour ago, traitors fuck. She hadn’t even the energy to swear properly. Fuck, she was tired. 

She sat on the carpet across from the bathroom, her knees pulled to her chest. No one was upstairs with her for the moment, or at least in the hallway with her. Brittany and Mr. B were downstairs, trying calm the fucktard diva and appease the Christian in her. But the bitch continued to want answers. Answers that none of them had. Only Quinn. She had answers, but she wanted to talk to Rachel first. So talk to Rachel she could.

After the ritual, Brittany caught her as she fell over and Mr. B was rounding the corner to reach Hobbs who was going to crash onto Quinn. But her caps woke up and caught her, pulling her into a tight hug. The blonde bitch reached over and dragged her into a hug as well, and Santana should have fought more because she was still fucking cold as hell. Whatever Rachel rambled on and on about Q being a fantastic heated blanket most days was wrong. 

Q passed out holding them, and Mr. B had to carry her inside, but she wasn’t bleeding any more. Santana made Brittany help Rach into the house, while Warbles came from inside and practically dragged her fine ass indoors. 

Mr. B 2 had massive blankets for the four of them, and took Rach from Britts, forcing her into the living room, where a cocoon was waiting for her tiny diva. She did good. Real good. What they did shouldn’t have worked, certainly not with a mundane as the anchor, but Dias Mia, did she do good. Hell, Santana wasn’t even sure how it worked in the first place. 

Her mami had been trying to teach all she could since Thanksgiving, trying to make sure she at least had an understanding about her powers, of mana, of how to spin a ritual like that. Santana hadn’t lied when she said she couldn’t use mana like that, she couldn’t just heal someone. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction. She could move things: earth, plants, water. She could move them along, forcing them along paths of mana she created. But those were present already. Those she had something to work with. Healing? Creating fire? Or summoning, whatever the fuck that is? She couldn’t even dream about doing.

With Q, the only thing she could do was steal the life force of something else and force it into her body. With Rachel anchoring the idea of Lucille Quinn Fabray, in term shaping said energy, Santana acted as she always and only could, a sieve which to guide the energy to its next location. She drained the tree dry, leaving only a completely white, petrified statue of a tree. No leaves would grow on it. The tall oak would never stretch and reach the sky as it should. Whenever she got home, she’d say a prayer of thanks for it, but right now, Santana was just happy Q was alive. Rach was alive. Britts, well, she was the same. All of that meant everything was okay, if only for a moment.

Q was still freezing, everything about her had almost this tiny hint of light blue and white, damn girl was so cold. She shook, not shivered the entire way, but she was aware at least. She was awake. She was alive. Dias Mia, she was alive.

Santana rested her head and swallowed deeply. She closed her eyes and tried to take slow even breaths, but every exhale was shaky. The mana within her was almost still, an empty and dead ocean with not breeze or current. Part of her felt off, but mostly it was nice for it not be spinning her head round. 

The ritual had worked. They had repaired the various damaged parts the best they could. All it cost Q was her perfect skin. Not to say it wasn’t still smooth without any flaws in it. But once the quintessential white girl picture was marred by a shoulder of an earthy tan, almost the same tone as her skin, same tone of bark. The entire wound was rebuilt and reformed using the mana of the tree, and Santana had done her best to move it in a manner that it was as close to human mana as possible. But some things she couldn’t change. So Q was stuck with a fucking scar in the end. She couldn’t save her completely. She couldn’t make her what she was again.

“Santana?” Rachel said. Santana didn’t move. She didn’t hear the door open, which was strange since the upstairs public bathroom had this horrible creaking noise. “You’ve eben out here the entire time?’

“It’s been what, ten? Fifteen minutes,” Santana replied. “I’m good.”

“Santana,” Rach said. “It’s been almost an hour.” 

“Oh.” She wanted to look up. Her neck was sore as fuck, and pins and needles ran up and down her legs. She couldn’t even feel her feet. 

Rustling and a body pushed hers slightly, before settled really close, touching her entire side. Rachel wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, resting her head on her shoulder. “Don’t you dare,” Santana said, offering the best growl she could.

“What?”

“You are not thanking me, you hear,” Santana replied. “I, it didn’t work out, and she, at least she’s here.”

“There aren’t words to express, Santana,” Hobbs said, “I don’t even have a song. And do you know how difficult that is for me, to not have a song to express myself? I found one for almost every day freshmen year.”

Santana slumped her shoulder and tried to move away. “No, you don’t, I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice of me. I, Santana, I’m so sorry.”

“’S cool,” Santana replied. She leaned her head away from Rach since she wouldn’t let her go. 

“No, it’s not. I was just trying to show you how I have a song for everything. Everything. And I can’t express what I’m feeling now.”

“You okay?” Santana asked. 

“Yes, you saved her.” Rachel pulled her tighter, enough so Santana felt bare skin on her side. The sweatshirt she threw on much have ridden up. A second arm hugged her and nearly pulled her flush against the diva. “You saved Quinn. You saved me.”

“Then, ‘s cool,” Santana said. 

Rachel just held her for a bit, and Santana kept shuffling about, trying to get comfortable. The floor wasn’t as soft as she would like, and her ass had fallen asleep. “Quinn wants to talk to you.” 

Santana picked her head and looked around. The bathroom door was cracked open, and she could smell whatever fruity bubble bath Hobbs must have demanded that Quinn take. Whole she may be, her caps smelled awful when all was said and done. 

“Do you,” Rach asked, but just stood up slowly, hooking her hands in her armpits, pulling up. 

“The fuck?” Santana tried to move, but she just let the diva do it. Not that she couldn’t but girl had this incessant need to help everyone, especially her friends. At least she stopped squealing at the word. “Fine. But I can walk, mom.”

“Good,” Hobbs said, spinning her around to look at her. Brown eyes offered a very gentle gaze. She blushed and looked away quickly, trying to move towards the door. But her feet decided sleeping was more important and she nearly fell. 

Rach caught her and helped her steady herself as the pins and needles dissolved along her legs and ass. A minute later she pushed her away. “Any longer and Q’d get jealous of you.”

“Course,” she replied, smiling brightly. A real smile, not one she remembered from freshmen and sophomore year. Thank goddess. “After all, you’re the hotter one.”

“Damn straight,” Q said, and Santana smiled for the first time that night. She wanted to laugh, but it would be too soon. Not until her caps was up on her feet and moving again. Not until things approached normal. 

Rach on the other frowned and stomped her foot. “You’re not supposed to agree. You’re supposed to say I’m hotter. I’m your girlfriend.”

“Please,” Santana said. “A hobbit like you versus me, Tauriel? Bitch please.”

“Not Galadriel?” Rachel asked.

“Nope, that’s cap.”

Rachel tapped her chin and looked up thoughtful. “Fine.”

“I’m glad you see it my way.”

“Nope,” Rachel popped the p, “I just lack the proper information to make an informed argument.”

“Fuck,” Santana replied. A powerpoint. Hobbs was gonna make her sit through a crazy powerpoint. 

“San?” Quinn said. Whatever strength in her had flittered away into the storm around them, and that was before the ritual. Santana was exhausted, every muscle struggling to continue to move and each breath just a little bit harder because god-fucking-damn it, sleep was calling. She could barely keep her eyes open. And she cast the fucking ritual. Quinn had to suffer through it.

Healing is not a nice act. Movies and books and fucking video games make it seem like such a simple and gentle art that it’s a blessing to be able to heal, to reverse time and make things right again, whole again. But fuck that. Reality is a fucking bitch and it made everyone else kiss its fucking ass before whipping them raw. And not in a fun way. 

The ritual involves sending volts of almost infinitely expansive life through a body that was already suffering, possibly sending it into cardiac arrest or worst just from the electric properties of mana, let alone the actual work of the spell. Then once mana was within the target, it involved tearing the injury apart on almost molecular level to rebuild it piece by piece, but the fucking issue with that was it never did it right, so the mana constantly tore the body apart and rebuilt it. Hence the anchor. Hence having Hobbs hold Q together so her entire body didn’t explode and cover them in goo. Besides killing their cap, it would have been a bitch to get out of her hair. And this was the fucking beginning.

Then, as mana rebuilt a person, it wasn’t like they weren’t aware, at least on some level. It was like those fucking things in math were a dot could approach something but never really get it, constantly getting closer and closer but never touching. For near-infinity. Yeah, that shit. That was what it felt like for Q. Being broken and rebuilt over and over again, faster than imaginable for longer than possible, Q suffered every little bit. And bitch was still awake afterward. So go her. Shit took some massive ovaries and bitch just proved why she was the strongest of them all. 

Her and B talked about it once, how it wouldn’t have really possible to do it on a mundane. Magic tended to remove a person from it, though kept the pain there as a very recent memory. But even a warden couldn’t remain conscious afterwards. Q did. Fucking Lucille Quinn Fabray remained awake, aware, and responsive afterwards. 

Brittany held her together, keeping her own current steady and flowing, connecting her body to two things that mattered most to her. Not sex, though that was awesome. No, her heart, her love, her life. Brittany S. Pierce was everything to her. She had just gained a girlfriend, a partner, and she’d be damn if she fucked it up enough to ruin it for them. There would be arguments, but come Hell and Heaven, no one, not even them, was tearing them apart. The second was something she never spoke about. 

Santana’s hands slide down her stomach as she wiped the sweat off her hands, pausing just below her belly-button for a breath. She shook her head and stepped towards the bathroom. A look back and Rach was smiling at her, shooing her in. Bitch. 

Santana gave her shy smile; she opened the door just enough to slide in before closing it and looking it. 

Quinn, otherworldly Quinn, had bags under eyes large enough to see even closed, bruises up and down her arms and on her chest, and her hair was a mess, soapy water dripping onto her shoulders, one pale and red, the other tan. An earthy and rich hue, but in a torn shape, with cracks reaching down her front and back. Her caps opened her eyes slowly and slide up in the tub until she was sitting straight up, not bother to hide herself in the bubbles (bitch seriously had a wonderful set of breasts and what the hell was that between her legs). She looked at her shoulder and smiled, then offered Santana a hand.

Her lip shook and her eyes were wet as she stepped closer to her. Santana’s feet betrayed her as they approached the blonde. A step or two from the tub, she fell forward, catching the arm and herself so at least she wasn’t a complete fool who smashed her head in a feelings-fit at seeing her friend alive and breathing and smiling. Q pulled her up and wrapped her in a hug. The water was cold, and soaking through her sweatshirt, but she pulled her tighter, resting her head on her good shoulder as the sobs shook them.

“Thank you,” she whispered and kissed the side of her head. “Thank you.” She cried out and squeezed her eyes shut harder, pulling her nearer to her, so she could feel her heartbeat. 

It was her job to take care of them, to protect them. And she hadn’t been able. But at least she saved her. Santana failed. But she was here, in her arms, holding her, when it should have been the other way. 

Except her caps would protect her. Her caps took care of her. Q cupped the back of her head as she buried her face in her neck and cried, and cried, and cried. 

Finally, once the blubbering mess that she was finished being a little bitch, Santana pulled back, laughing as she wiped her nose on the sweatshirt and sniffling heavily. “Sorry,” she said, and turned away. 

“Bout what?” Q replied. Santana nodded and smiled to herself, wiping her face dry the best she could. At least she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Then Britts would ask questions about why she was crying and make her talk about her feelings instead of lady kisses tonight, well, morning. Fuck, soonish. She’d probably know anyways and make them do it anyways. 

As she removed her soaked top, she heard the water splash. By the time she had her tank adjust so she wasn’t popping out completely, Q had submerged herself until only her head was above the bubbles. 

Santana cleaned up the mess Q had made best she could, all the suds and puddles around them, then sat next to the tub. She reached out through the bubbles and took her hand, intertwining their fingers. She couldn’t speak and just waited as whatever thoughts were spinning through her caps’ head settled enough for her to find the words. “I fucked up.”

“I hope you gave as good as you got,” Santana said, trying to give a smile. “Because fucking shit, you looked like burger meat.” She drew circles on the back of her hand, watching as she tried to make each perfect.

“It was Jesse,” Q replied. Santana stilled and looked up. 

“The fuck-“ 

“Let me explain, please.” She turned to her, staring at her with her piercing green eyes. 

“This better be fucking good, Q, or I swear,” Santana said. She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, squeezing herself as she glared at her cap. Bitch fucked up alright, and her story better be fucking good. Or she’d go fucking Lima Heights Adjacent on her sculpted ass. 

Took less than thirty minutes to get the most detail about anything she’d get from Q, but Santana moved closer as she talked, and talked, and talked. For once, she didn’t shut up. Kinda wished she did, especially since this was complete truth, not some story for them to enjoy and laugh about.

“A haven, Q? Really? The fuck is that shit you’ve gotten me fucking into,” Santana nearly screamed at her, but she’d rather no one in the house hear the shouting match soon turned slapping match they’d get into. The shit that her caps got into.

“I know, I know.”

“I mean, honestly, between you and me, we’re barely inadequate, let alone anywhere near competent. How the fuck are we supposed to protect anyone? You do realize that’s what you just fucking got us into to? Because, new flash, bitch, you got your ass handed to by Jesse fucking St. Jerkass.” Santana squeezed her hand. 

Quinn tapped some pattern on the back of hers. “It just came out. The tiger, he wanted to speak. He had to. I never felt like this before, that he needed to say. Hell, I did not know he could even do that.”

She swung their hands back and forth. “And this gnome? You told to spread the word? Seriously, the fuck is that shit? To Brothers Bear and Sisters wolf? You fucking announcing yourself now? Announcing me? That we’re gonna fucking play with the big boys now and all that fun shit?”

“It was word vomit, I swear, it just came out,” Q said, running her nails along her knuckles. 

“I told you Hobbs was gonna infect you with something.”

“Oh Lord,” Quinn sat up a little bit and leaned on her knees, pulled Santana’s hand with her. “I am. I was rambling aggressively and I just went on and on, calling him so many things.”

“Calling, or naming him?”

“Huh?” 

“There’s a difference, Q,” Santana said. “A big one.”

She stared at the bubbles, and Santana felt the waves as she pulled their hands under water. “I named him.”

“What exactly. Please,” Santana sat up on her knees and leaned on the edge of the tub, “I need your exact words. Hell, if you could repeat the tone, it’d help, but-“ 

What she spoke was not the voice of Q, not the voice of the HBIC, though the tone was remarkably similar to the angry one. It wasn’t even the fucking ice queen, which Santana would have preferred. The voice and words came from something ancient. Something powerful. Something raging. And Q didn’t shift at all. “I name thee Blight! I name thee Abomination! I name thee Cursed and Coward! I name thee Man.” 

Santana stared, for a bit, though apparently, long enough that Q had to push her mouth closed. 

It started in her belly, and just grew and grew. She shook and had to pull away from Q. Her eyes watered and she could barely breathe. “It is not funny, San,” she said, but Santana kept laughing, resting against the bathroom wall so she wouldn’t fall over. “I sounded like an idiot.”

“That is the most classic shit I’ve ever hear,” Santana said. Quinn leaned over and slapped her shoulder. 

“This is not funny,” she said. “What does it mean?”

“That he’s a Blight, an Abomination, Cursed and Coward, and the fucking world is gonna fucking know it. It almost makes up for the epic stupidity.” Dias Mia, she needed that. Just the idea that St. Jerkass was gonna- 

“San, please, I do not understand.”

“Naming is important,” She said through breaths, though the smile refused to leave. “Like, super important. That’s why he did what he did to the gnome, even if no one else was gonna hear it. To Name someone like that, to Name him everything you did, to Name him what he named others, it’ll define him. It isn’t something you do easily, or regularly. It takes will and power, and more importantly, emotion. St. Fuckoff could only do one, but you, Q, named him four times. You defined him to himself. More importantly, it’ll define him to others. That gnome will tell its caravan, who will tell everyone, and then so on and so on. Fucker’s gonna be stuck with it for a long time.”

Quinn sat back and shuffled under the bubbles again. She leaned her head against the edge of the tub and stared at the ceiling. “I wish I killed him,” she muttered. 

Santana crawled over to her side and rested her arm next to her, her chin on her arms. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Quinn,” she said, and reached out to run her fingers through her hair, “you don’t. Believe me you don’t.”

“Some part of me wanted to so badly,” she replied. “To tear him arm and leave the carcass for everyone for see. To know I was there.”

“But you couldn’t.”

“I did not. I, no matter what I felt or wanted, that thought refused to enter my mind,” Q said. 

“No, I mean literally you couldn’t.” Santana smirked and tilted her head. “You aren’t a killer, Q. For all your anger and frustration, for all that fucking power you got, you aren’t one. You are mean, hurtful, and downright cruel, but you would never kill.”

“He deserves to die,” Q replied. “He wanted, San what he said he was going to do.”

“Sweetie, I know,” Santana said. “When the time comes, I’ll do it. I’ll crush him for you. Keep your hands clean for your Hobbs.”

“And you are a killer?” 

She shrugged. “I protect you.”

“Then, when you do something that stupid, I will hold you when you cry.” Quinn looked over at her and smirked.

Santana laughed and splashed her, pulling away so Q couldn’t respond. “You take that back. You take that back right now.”

“Fine,” Q said, her laughter ringing in the small bathroom, “I will tell no one that Santana Lopez is a big softie.”

“Damn straight, you’d keep your trap shut.” She sat back and crossed her arms.

“The pout is adorable, though.” 

“Shut it,” Santana said. She tried to growl, but the sides of her lips kept curling upward and her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. “Probably should get out before you prune.”

Quinn shrugged and settled back down. “When Rae brings me something to wear. I was not quite expecting this.”

“It’s okay,” Santana said. 

“I messed everything up, right? Things are going to be very difficult from here on out.”

“Yes, but we’re together. You’re okay.” She sat up slowly to her knees. “C’mon, Rach is probably freaking out about us in here and the peons are gonna want answers.”

Quinn nodded and sat forward, unplugging the tug. She stood up as the water flowed away from her, flowed off of her, taking every last bubble with it. Fucking bitch. She raised an eyebrow and held out here hand, and just held it there. 

“Bitch,” Santana grabbed the towel and threw it at her. 

“Go to Rae’s room, and pass out there,” she said, stepping out of the tub and drying off. “I will send Bri to you when I see her. Though she will most likely be in there waiting for you already.”

“Q.”

“This is not a request,” she continued. “This is me taking care of you, as I should. I can estimate how taxing that ritual was on you given how exhausted I am.” Q dropped the towel (bitch was bigger than Puck and that fucktard from Carmel and they would be talking about that later) and grabbed the clothing off the sink. Well, more like singular. It was a large, man’s flannel shirt. On Q, it came down to her knees. She pulled her hair into a pony tail.

“I’m surprised you’re standing,” Santana replied. 

“I am can assure you that the moment Rachel wishes to lie down with me, I will pass out. Maybe sooner. But until then, I can carry on.” She smiled shyly. “Besides, Brittany will probably desire to speak on this situation, and of all of us, you are the one who is not required to attend said conversation.”

“Except I’m the one who did the ritual,” Santana replied. “I’m the one who healed you.”

“Correct, but Brittany knows how you accomplished it. She will be able to tell your side, answer their questions if it truly comes to that. Come,” Q said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You require rest, and I require my Rae.”

“I really hate how you get all medieval and proper with your vocab when you get injured.”

“Tis a gift,” Q said, smiling wider this time. 

She barked out a laugh as her caps led her out of the bathroom to Hobbs room. Things were truly fucked up with calling Lima a haven, and Santana had no idea how to fix it. But she didn’t care about that. She didn’t even care that St. Jerkass was still alive. Q was alive, her heart was still with her, and her best friend stuck around through it all. Everyone else could go fuck a goat for all it mattered. She had what she needed. They were happy and well, then so was she. 

!-!-!-!-!

After she was sure that Santana was curled up with Rachel ridiculous amount of stuffed animals, Quinn walked slowly and awkwardly down the stairs, the voices already carrying up to her, even though they tried to be quiet and whisper. Mercedes was especially aggressive, though why, she could not determine. It was not as if she died or anything terribly important. 

Rachel was quiet, while Misters Berry were attempting to make small talk. Kurt and Tina attempted to participate, and Blaine and Brittany were discussing something regarding ingredients and proper temperature. Despite her faith in the blondes’ cooking ability, she had a tendency to ignore recipes and make some unique entrees. This had better not be one of those nights, especially with ingredients like lemon rind, eye of newt, toe of badger. Those had better be spices, or Santana was going to have to explain that not everyone had a cast iron stomach like her. 

Outside, she could hear the sudden storm that had nearly consumed her, consumed them. Part of the reason she had decided to transform was the clear forecast. Not that the snow would have been too much of a hindrance, but she hated getting wet when she was a tiger. Well, more wet and cold. Her fur frozen and it tickled against her as she ran, possibly breaking a chunk off (she learned that the hard way at Rachel’s grandfather’s house). 

No one noticed her as she padded into the kitchen, and Quinn was a little thankful for that small gift. It granted her a breath, before the excitement picked up and whirled around her. It was a single moment for her to adjust to the idea that the tiger and herself were not as separate as she thought. At least for the moment. 

He was her and she him, but in truth, there was a distinction, and sometimes that distinction was small, like when she was sexually aggressive with Rae, or great, like when she acted on reflex with Jesse, speaking before thinking. It always existed though. She knew when she was tiger and when she was girl. She knew what line to cross in her acceptance to become either. But now, with Santana healing her in a way that only she really understood, maybe Brittany too, and could do, the line had become smudged and old. She could barely see it any more. 

The tiger could not become angry. It could never get angry. That would mean losing her temper. That would mean losing control. That would mean him desiring her to accept him, and let him take care of the issue. Now, now, he was quiet. Nothingness quiet. She barely felt his presence. But the power, the idea, the essence of him. Everything that was the tiger was with her.

Quinn stepped in the kitchen and paused, a foot hovering and her balance perfect so she stood upright, despite a slight bit of weight in her crotch. Rachel was leaning over the counter, wearing a rather large Cheerio sweatshirt she stole from her a while back, covering everything except those long smooth legs she wanted to wrap around her body. They were in the air, kicking idly, and she watched the metronome in time with her heartbeat, slippers hanging on the edge of her toes, but never falling. 

She cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing in her head, but it never reached anyone else. Quinn followed the velvety skin up her calf, over her knee, and to her thigh, pausing at the hem of the sweatshirt, which hid where the ass met thigh, and, oh Lord, she bared her teeth in a soft rumble as she could almost taste the-

“Quinn!” Rachel shouted, and her foot continued to the ground, where she caught an armful of diva. Rachel wrapped herself tightly around her, enough that she felt the pressure on her ribs, but unlike before, there was no movement, no cracking ribs, no loss of breath. “You’re taller.”

She blushed and looked away from her, but kept her in her arms. “Yes, I do not know for how long,” she said. Rachel nodded against her sternum and did not let go. “Under normal circumstances, I would have lost these extra inches, but it seems I will remain with it for a bit.”

“Either way, you’re perfect for hugging,” Rachel said, rubbing her chest and tickling her bare skin through the space between buttons. 

“Thank you, I think.” Well into their second month together, she still was not used to being at a loss for words. Words were her armor, her distance from everyone. But Rachel tore the steel to shreds and crossed the space in an instance, then refused to leave from her side. With the tiger quiet, it was her who wanted to run and stay at the same. A discerning thought, as she could no longer blame her mood swings on him. 

“C’mon,” Rachel pulled away, her hand drifting down to hers, and tugged her to the island, “Daddy’s making vegan pancakes.”

“Bacon? Please, is there bacon?” She kept her eyes on Rachel, though the silence tore through her and all eyes sat on her, waiting for something. “I am rather hungry, and-“

“Yes, your animalistic side desires sustenance as well, resulting in the death of those poor piggies.” Rachel returned to her spot and pulled her flush against her back. She nestled in her arms and sighed, then kissed her hand before putting them on the counter, covering hers. 

“Well, yes,” Quinn said, “After all, I am a carnivore who accepts your need to feed me defenseless vegetables.” 

“Fear not, Quinn,” Mr. Berry said at the stove, “no plants were harmed in the making of god’s gift to the world.”

“Even I can agree on that,” Tina said. “Though, pork belly is so much better.” While she had worn a great deal of Goth clothing in the past, the pastel green tee and black sleep pants were a bit brighter than Quinn would have expected. 

“If cooked right,” Blaine added. “Bacon doesn’t need that.” His white shirt and blue-black flannel pants were rather plain to what looked like silk suit his boyfriend had on.

Brittany had disappeared. 

Mercedes stared, halfway between anger and confusion, at Quinn. She was standing the furthest away possible and still remaining in the kitchen, in the small circle of people. She felt it was best to continue as she had since the beginning of the year: Quinn ignored her. 

Despite the kindness and generosity she received when she was pregnant, their relationship deteriorated through junior year, and certainly as senior year when on. Quinn would not stand for any cruelty towards Rachel, and the diva deserved her ire.

“Whatever is cleaner,” Kurt said. “I am dirty enough from handling those bloody towels, mind you I had to forgo a shower to clean up, which I am seriously disappointed in, and would not want to further mess up my silk pajamas.” Blaine kissed the side of his head and just smiled at his boyfriend. 

“So vegan pancakes and bacon for everyone? Then bed, yes?” Mr. Berry said, his brown eyes glancing over the room. He looked a bit out of place in the vibrant, pink dress robe against his black skin with pink bunny slippers. Quinn stood only a few inches shorter than him now, but she still felt smaller under his gaze. She turned away before he could make eye contact with her. 

The room settled into a silence, and she knew that the rest of them were looking at her, save Rachel, who kept shifting and cuddling her arms. Brittany was supposed to help with the conversation that everyone else wanted, now needed. Quinn was just the back up.

“I am sorry for disrupting your sleepover,” Quinn said. “I had intended to remain away, but circumstances required assistance.”

“I’ll say,” Blaine said. “Though that is possibly the biggest understating use of the word.”

“What are you?” Mercedes asked. 

“I am,” Quinn tried to think of answer that did not completely expose her, expose the world she was growing into. 

“Unique,” Brittany said. She came up from the basement with Mr. Berry, extra paper plates and plastic silverware in his arms. He was at least more subdued with his attire, as usual, though the baby blue bunny slippers were a strange addition. He smiled at Quinn and walked over to them. “I believe that is the best word for the moment. Just as Sannie and Blaine are. Though I hadn’t expected something as exciting as a special chemist like yourself.”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “Mom did it in her spare time, and I picked some here and there. Still working at my apprenticeship by correspondence, which isn’t best, but yeah.” Mr. Berry passed out the utensils, then plates to the group. Mercedes took hers and step back.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Kurt turned and glared at him. 

“You never asked?” he replied. 

“Enough about Blaine,” Mercedes said, “I want to know what just happened. Why you came in all dying and then are walking less than two hours later. Why Santana had to take the three of you outside to do some heathen ritual.”

Mr. Berry turned back from the stove, “I don’t think-“

“No,” she said. “We deserve the truth.”

“You can’t handle the truth,” Brittany practically shouted, hopping in place and clapping once, her bare feet slapping the ground. Underneath her stolen hotel bathroom was probably just a small tank and extremely short shorts if past sleepovers were indicative of anything.

“We are so revoking your movie privileges.” Quinn shook her head. Brittany stuck out her tongue at her. 

“I watched you bleed all over this island,” Mercedes continued, “and you are making jokes.”

“What do you want me to say,” Quinn answered. 

“The truth.”

“I believe Brittany has established, while in a copyright infringement method, the correct response to that statement.” They could not. Maybe Blaine, since he was partially in the world, but if he was not aware of her or Santana’s abilities, then he might have been as lost as her, stumbling in the dark and grasping at whatever she could. The tiger would have guided her, and she wished it could as well as it did yesterday. “There is too much that is dangerous, and I will-“

“Rachel knows,” She pointed at the girl in her arms. Quinn could practically feel the Broadway smile on her face. “Is that just because she’s your girlfriend? That earns her some special privileges?”

“Well, duh.” Brittany stepped over to the other side of her and cupped her elbow. “She doesn’t have sexy times with you. Like I don’t share Santana anymore.” 

Quinn tried to hide her face in Rachel’s hair, but her girlfriend had the audacity to grind her ass once against her. She felt the familiar twinge of something that should not be there, and it would be best to ignore it. Rachel must have felt it too; she froze briefly then relaxed again. At least, she did not grind against her again. 

“That is not, Brittany, this is serious,” Mercedes said. 

“I know.” Brittany shrugged her shoulders. 

“I have a question,” Tina said, raising her hand. 

“We’re not in class,” Brittany answered, “so you don’t need to do that, but go ahead.” 

“What happened to you Quinn?” She looked down and stepped a bit away from the island. “I mean, to cause you to need whatever Santana did to you.”

“Witchcraft, call it what it is,” Mercedes said.

“It isn’t witchcraft,” Brittany frowned. “Sannie isn’t a witch, though she can be a bit of a-“

“I had a confrontation with someone who desired to harm some…one who did not deserve it. An innocent, if you will,” Quinn tried to step back from Rachel, but she gripped her wrists and pulled her arms even tighter against her, resting them on the counter and she rested on them, pressing her breasts into them. “Despite eventually defeating him, I was injured far greater than I had expected, or at least, I did not expect the injuries to continue to be as extensive and pervasive as they were. I was lead to believe that they should have been lessened given some other events, but apparently, some other work was involved.” Quinn looked over at Brittany in hopes that she would jump in, but she just had a dazed, far-off look in her eyes. 

“Oh,” Tina replied. She returned to the island. “But you’re okay, now, right?”

“I believe so,” She said.

“Of course,” Rachel answered.

“That tells us nothing,” Mercedes said. “You said nothing.”

“I told you what happened,” Quinn looked at her for the first time since talking to her. The gaze had transformed into nothing but anger and disgust. 

“This is bull-“

“Language,” Mr. Berry said, then turned to Quinn, smiling even brighter at her. “But you are okay, sweetie? Whatever Santana did won’t have any lasting negative effects?” They were smiling at her? Did something change in the past week? 

“I do not know,” Quinn said. Brittany should have said something, but she was still lost in her world. “I do believe so but-“

“You’re okay with this, this,” Mercedes said, almost pointing at Quinn, but at least she kept her hands down. She felt a growl start in her chest, but Rachel kissed her hand and cuddled with her again. 

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Mr. Berry brought over a plate of pancakes for them. Quinn eyed them wearily, but grabbed a few for Rachel barehanded before she shoved a fork to be polite. The rest disappeared onto the remaining plates, save Mercedes. 

“Because she’s, she’s,” Mercedes stammered and turned to look out the window. The blizzard roared outside, and she could hear the trees twist and bend in the raging storm. 

“Completely and perfectly normal,” Mr. Berry added. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “Quinn has our complete trust.” She turned and looked at him, her arms slacking on their hold and her eyebrows almost reaching her forehead. 

It was not a lie. He spoke a complete truth. It was not a lie. 

She stopped breathing. What had happened in the two weeks since Thanksgiving? There, he had told her that he did not thing she had deserved his trust, despite whatever she done since attempting to atone for her wrongs against their daughter. There, he revealed what he had believed, and it was just as true then as now. She had not changed. Rachel had not changed. No one had. Nothing had. 

But he spoke the truth. He touched her, willingly. He had never done that before. Mr. Berry, Rachel’s Daddy, had hugged her tightly and treated her like he did Rachel, but Mr. Berry, Rachel’s Dad, was distant. Why, what had she done to deserve the trust? She placed herself in danger, and by extension Rachel, driven a massive wedge between Rachel and her grandparents, and now brought them into something they could not possible understand. Even she struggled to understand it.

“But what about, you know, before?” Mercedes glanced at Quinn before turning her entire attention to Hiram. He had a small smile directed at everyone else, his eyes focusing on everyone else, but never turning to her. 

“That’s in the past, Mercedes,” Rachel said. “And it doesn’t matter at the moment. What matters is that she’s fine.”

“But she’s not,” She shouted. “How can you say that? After what we just saw, some crazed witchcraft and-“

“Santana is not a witch,” Brittany repeated. “I thought you understood. Do we need to go over it again?”

“Then what would you call what she just did? That is not natural. That is not God’s work,” Mercedes said. Quinn winced and tried to move further away, but Hiram’s grip on her shoulder and Rachel’s on her arms held her in place. “This is more like the-“

“Merc,” Kurt said, “just drop it. Please.” Yes, please, Mercedes, just drop whatever you’re going to say. Quinn is alive, clearly, and we should just be thankful for that.” Years ago, Quinn would have agreed to some point with Mercedes, though certainly not that it was witchcraft in any way. 

“Why, why should I-“

“Because we are guests, and clearly this conversation is making Mr. B uncomfortable,” Brittany said. 

“If you are really uncomfortable around me, I could leave,” Quinn said. Rachel squeezed her tighter.

“You are not running away this time,” she said, shaking her head and rustling her ponytail against her shirt. “Not again.”

“But-“

“Quinn, it’s fine,” Mr. Berry said. He let go of her shoulder and stepped to the other side of them, putting himself between Mercedes and his daughter. And Quinn. He was standing between someone else and Quinn. 

She tried to push her nose through Rachel’s hair into her head, but only succeeded in flattening her face. 

“Why’d don’t we eat, and we can continue this discussion in the morning?” Mr. Berry put the place plate at the island in front of Mercedes. 

Quinn looked up and saw Mercedes never taking her eyes off of them, off of her, as she reached for the plate and pulled it away, then she leaned against the counter across from the island. Quinn could see no anger in her eyes. It was disgust or distrust, most likely both. The diva had becoming more and more opinionated, and while she agreed with the idea that Rachel should back off some, the talking down she received in Glee last month was meant to encourage her to try more, to work harder, instead it just solidified the idea that was more simply more talented than everyone else and did not have to.

Brittan spoke with Blaine and Kurt, drawing the fashionista into some strange conversation regarding Blaine’s craft and his studies and how it can affect fabric. Tina, Rachel, and her dads tried to talk to Mercedes about some music, but eventually gave up as the diva choose to stare at Quinn. She felt like she was being eyed up, judged whether or not to be worthy or righteous. Her faith was such a strong part of her. 

Quinn ate her bacon slowly off of her plate, which had to be separate from Rachel’s vegan pancakes as by order to protect her vulnerable vegetables from the horrors of excellent meat. She tried to ignore the pair of eyes on her, instead simply rested on Rachel’s bobbing head, smiling at the vibration of her excitement. But she could hear Mercedes’ breath in time with the crashing winds against the house. She pulled Rachel closer, flattening herself against her back, pressing her penis into her. 

There was no reason for her to possess it. Every other time she had grown the appendage, she had been close to the tiger, extremely close, enough that the distinction was small and she was going to accept fully, just a hint away. Usually that involved ears, a tail, and some fur and her markings. And a penis. 

But the tiger was close without actually being there. She felt his essence as though it were in a field across from her, instead of right next to her. The strength, the power, the presence, including his male-ness, was with her now. 

She was okay with it. It felt comfortable. Right. 

“Quinn?” Rae said. 

“Hmm?”

“We’re gonna crash downstairs.” She spun in her arms, wrapping hers around her neck. Quinn pulled away enough to rest her forehead on hers. Everyone else had left, Hiram and Leroy had returned to their bedroom, and there were four down stairs, talking under the television’s program. Brittany must have gone upstairs to see Santana.

“You’re gonna go sleep with Sannie,” Brittany said from their side. Or not. Damn ninja.

“Huh?”

“You fell asleep standing up,” she continued. “On Rach of all people. She struggled to keep you up towards the end.”

“I’zorry,” Quinn said, her eyes already closing again. “WhazbouRacel? Andzou?”

“Brittany and I will be downstairs, and we’ll take care of any questions,” Rachel said. She pushed up slowly, until her nose was against Quinn’s, and nuzzled her. “Handle the issues with Mercedes.”

“I’zorry,” Quinn repeated.

“Never,” Brittany said. “Never be sorry for being alive, and trusting us to make sure you stay that way.”

“Kay.”

“Can you make it up the stairs? Or do I need to get Mr. B?”

“I’ll handle it,” Mr. Berry said. Quinn must have been really exhausted if she could not hear two people approach her without hearing them. Smelling them.

“You sure, Dad?” Rachel asked. 

“Course.” Rachel set herself on the ground, taking Quinn with her, until she was leaning on her again. A hand touched her gently on the shoulder before she could relax any more onto her. “Sweetie, you’ve got about twenty pounds more than what you normally weigh, I bet, so you’re kinda squishing her.”

“I’zorry,” Quinn stepped back a bit, swaying. She cracked her neck and opened her eyes, expecting to see Rachel in pain, but only her smile, genuine and full, was on her face. 

“You and Santana sleep as late as you want,” Rachel said. “Don’t worry bout tomorrow, we’ll take care of it.”

“I ta’care ofzou.”

“And tonight, that’s my job.” She looked over her shoulder and frowned at her dad. “Make sure she sleeps under the covers, please. She’s still cold.”

Any other time, she would have laughed. But Brittany cut in. “Put her right next to Sannie. Make them cuddle.” No one argued with Brittany. Ever. Not anymore at.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

Rachel kissed her nose and pushed her away into the Mr. Berry’s hands. She tried to step away, but he held her shoulders and spun her around, quickly, away from her girlfriend and guided her out of the kitchen. Rachel’s laughter followed them as they headed upstairs, then two sets of feet moved down behind a closed door into nothingness. Leaving only three heartbeats besides her own, one in a room ten yards away, one downstairs, and one beating rapidly besides her. They reached the stairs and he threw an arm around her shoulders, holding her steady.

Quinn wasn’t that heavy. While she knew that she was denser than before, she also know that Mr. Berry was more than capable of supporting some of her weight. He carried Rachel up one night over summer when his taller husband was already passed out, a time before they were allowed to stay over. “I am sorry.” She stood up away from him, but he kept his arm around her shoulders. 

“I think the girls made it clear that you are not at fault here,” he replied. She nodded, and they took the stairs slow. 

“I was wrong,” he said. 

Quinn took another step. 

“I was wrong to question, well, you,” he said. “That I should trust you.”

“Trust requires time to be built.” 

“We have trusted you with Rachel, and more importantly, you trust Rachel, you trust us. And I think we’ve abused that a bit.”

“That does not make sense,” Quinn said. She was halfway up now and supporting her own weight entirely, though didn’t pull away from him. 

Mr. Berry laughed. “I know. I know it doesn’t. Rachel kinda read us the riot act after you left last Saturday.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Berry,” she said. He flinched.

“Yeah, Star was saying you had returned to calling me that.”

“It is only respectful.”

“From anyone else, I’d think you’d be lying, but manners are your armor, one of many.”

Quinn said nothing. He returned to the previous topic, though avoided looking at her. 

“Don’t be,” Mr. Berry said. “We should have stood up for you, I should have. I am a bit, well, Rachel called me a pushover, when it comes to Leroy’s Mom.” Quinn nodded and stepped over the last one, only to pause at the top when Mr. Berry did. “I’ve been so thankful for her taking me in, accepting me, that part of me-“ He trailed off. “She welcomed me into her house, and honestly it was nice to have a family who wanted me there.”

Quinn looked down the hallway and tried to see if Rachel’s door was open. 

“Right, sorry. I forgot just how vindictive Kathy can be sometimes, mainly because it was never directed at me. Brianna’s husband, Remy, he earned her ire. They didn’t showed up for anything entire time, or just Brianna would, and she was rather unhappy her husband was not really welcomed. Things are still a bit awkward between the two. Serafine repaired some of the distance, but not really. She holds a grudge.”

Quinn looked back to Mr. Berry and cocked her head, standing almost perfectly still. She forgot to blink for a moment watching him. But he never turned away from her stare. She was not angry. These were things that were truths and did not concern her. She had accepted them.

“Going there, Kathy had reminded me a great deal of your history with my daughter. Certainly the negative parts.”

“Mr. Berry, if this is meant to be some warning me off, I would greatly appreciate some sleep before I am required to leave, so-“

“No, I think the opposite. In my haste to make Kathy happy, I sided with her, and I forgot everything that you have done for Rachel. I forgot that you made her happy.”

“I have hurt her.”

“Yes, but you also helped heal her,” he replied. He reached out, but Quinn stepped back from him. She was awake and aware enough to not want to get into a situation where she would run again, not with feeling as tired as she was. Not with Rachel and Brittany expecting her to cuddle with Santana. “You asked me if I forgave you and I didn’t give you an answer.”

“A non-answer is an answer, Mr. Berry,” Quinn said. 

“It is nothing except you reading into something I hadn’t an answer for, a real one.” Mr. Berry took another step towards her, and she backed up one, then two, until she was pressing against the wall. She wanted to lash out and swipe at him, push him away. But that would make Rachel unhappy. “I’m sorry.”

“You spoke the truth.”

“At the time, I had no answer for you.”

“You do not forgive me, I have-“

“Quinn,” Mr. Berry said. He raised his hands slowly. She flicked her eyes at them and his face, watching him and waiting for whatever was coming. “I couldn’t give you an answer because I realized that, despite all that you’ve done to my Star, you are one of the biggest forces in her life. You are one of the greatest reasons for her to escape this town. At first it was to show you up, prove to you of all people, how amazing she really. I don’t think that has really changed. She still wants to live up to your praise, to prove her worth to you.”

“She never has to do that, Mr. Berry. She is without value, without compare. I-“

“Then, Quinn, then,” he said. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she straightened, pressing herself as flat as she could against the wall. The smile was not comforting, despite whatever he intended it to be. “Then, it was to prove she was better than you. That her talent was more than your beauty could ever be, that she is more than you were. That she is greater than you ever would be.”

“She is,” she said softly, finally dropping her gaze and stared at the baby blue bunny slippers. 

“We did our best with our daughter, but she was prideful, arrogant and selfish. Star wasn’t always that way, but middle school and the start of high school brought it out of her. Her talent grew and so did the diva. She was the star and that was the most important thing to her and therefore to the world. More important than anything that everyone else thought, cared about. But, she didn’t deserve the bullying.”

“No, sir.”

“She didn’t deserve the isolation and the loneliness. Nothing she ever did, no matter what you may have thought of her. She didn’t deserve that.”

“I know,” Quinn said. She kept her hands to her side as her cheeks felt wet very slightly. One deep inhale, and whatever water was pooled within her eyes was gone and only her frozen expression remained. Or at least, it would have, if Mr. Berry didn’t squeeze her shoulders, offering the saddest smile she’d seen from him. 

“And neither did you.”

Quinn shook her head and tried to pull it all back in. Another shoulder squeeze and he was a bit closer. 

“You didn’t deserve the over-bearing, strict, emotionally distant and probably abusive father you had. You didn’t deserve the alcoholic mother and the absentee parenting. You didn’t deserve the bullying of Lucy, who Rachel assured me was an absolutely adorable middle schooler. You didn’t deserve being kicked out of your house, then kicked out of your boyfriend’s, because a mistake was made.”

“Beth will never be a mistake.” She took a deep breath and reached up to wipe a tear away. Maybe with them off of her, she could steel herself. Rachel had broken through too much and she barely held her walls up, her armor, her shell. It was the only thing holding her together these days. 

“Of course not. You didn’t deserve what Kathy did to you, the humiliation and degradation. And you don’t deserve the distance I caused between you and us. Quinn, you didn’t deserve everything that has happened to you. Rachel showed me that. I can’t excuse your actions, no one can, but I can forgive you. I just hope you can for me.” 

“Huh?” he spoke the truth. He had not lied. 

“I can forgive you, because you made, no make, Rachel happy. You’ve brought back our little girl who laughs and smiles and just enjoys the world, not so focused on winning and talent. She has relaxed so much since you’ve entered her life, properly, not as you were freshmen year. Not antagonist and competing, but together, smiling.”

“I, Mr. Berry,” Quinn said. His slippers were really adorable, and maybe Rachel would like some for Hannukah. Or something like it. Maybe something with stars and faux-fur. 

“Quinn, can you forgive me? What will it take for you to call me Hiram again?” She looked up slowly. He gave her a sad smile. “To call my husband Leroy again? What will it take to erase that night?” 

“Huh?” She stopped trying to dry her face, though blinking barely removed anyone of the water out of her eyes. 

“I know I hurt you that night,” he said. “I hurt you probably worse than Kathy did, because you thought you had done right by us, by me, by Rachel. You knew me, were close to me, in a way. You thought everything had moved on, even if we never forgot, we moved past it, and I led you to believe elsewise. I lied to you that night. I’m sorry.”

“I, Mr. Berry, I do not, what-“ She shook her head and tried to push his hands off of her. Not very hard, because he just moved with them and gently pushed her back against the wall as she tried to step away. 

“I don’t need an answer, not now, not soon,” he replied. Quinn turned to look at the plant to her left, trying to hold her shoulder in front of her face. “Just, please, think of it. And don’t do it for Rachel. Do it because you feel that you deserve it again. Not because I want you to, though I do. I want you to forgive me when you can, when you’re ready. Until then, we’re here. If you need us. Heaven forbid you and Star break up, we’ll still be here.”

Mr. Berry slid back, dropping his hands from her shoulders. Quinn nodded once before stepping through the few inches between him and the table and crossing the distance to Rachel’s room. She opened and closed the door before leaning back into it. 

She rested as still as possible, barely moving her shoulders and pressing a fist into her mouth, biting her knuckles. She barely listened to the room, to the shuffling of the feet as Mr. Berry walked away, back to his husband, to the sharp words exchanged in the basement under the television. She barely smelled sleeping Latina underneath the scent of Rachel. She barely felt touch on her arms as she tried to calm down, tried to ignore the wetness she felt on her face. 

“Dias Mia,” Santana said. “You even fucking cry pretty. This is not fucking fair, Q. Seriously.”

Quinn chuckled, but it was cut in another silent, still sob. 

“C’mon,” she gripped her hand and pulled her toward the bed. “You can tell Auntie Snix tomorrow what’s got the big bad tiger so sad. I’ll kick their ass and you can watch and smile. Oh, and you get to be little spoon because I am not waking up with that in my back.” 

Quinn laughed a bit harder, and fought another sob dead. She let herself be moved and positioned as Santana forced her to lie down and curl into her front when she joined her. 

“One day, we’ll get you feeling and acting like a real human,” she whispered into her hair. Quinn nodded and just pulled Santana closer. It was not Rachel, but it would do. For the moment. “Until then, I guess I’ll just have to beat up whoever made you cry, because that’s nearly as bad making the hobbs cry. Actual cry, not those fake tears she likes to use.”

Quinn nodded. 

“Mr. B 2 is right though,” Santana said. 

Quinn tried to speak, but it dissolved into another shake and wet cheeks. 

“Both about that Rach didn’t deserve the hell we put her through. We both know that shit. But you? That shit your sperm donor pulled with you? That’s not cool. Not at all.”

She shrugged.

“No, you get to feel this for once.” Santana bit her shoulder and pulled back before she could retaliate against the Latina. “The shit the school did, that I did? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with us?”

She shrugged again, and tried to relax into the bed. There were some nights that she had spent sleeping in this, but it was different with Santana in the bed, certainly without Brittany. In one cheer camp, Sue decided that their survival skills were not up to standard so they were dropped into the Canadian Wilderness and ordered to make their way to a basecamp in Alaska.

“So what else he say?”

“You were eaves dropping,” Quinn said, “So you tell me.”

“Pshh,” Santana blew against her neck and shuffled behind her. “I’d rather you tell me. This is supposed to be about you, though, let’s be honest, it’d be better if it were about me.”

“Everything is better when it’s about you.”

“Damn straight. Now talk.”

“Can we please do this tomorrow?”

“Not if you want to have this convo with Rach, or worse, B,” Santana said. Quinn spun in her grip and she slid her hips away from her. “Seriously, keep that away from me. It’s unnatural.”

“It is perfectly normal for me.”

“I meant the size, bitch.” She stared at the space between them, though it was covered by the thermal sheets and a quilted blanket. The rest had been discarded, though Quinn felt a few of the animals still rest on top of the pillows above her head. “Fuck, you’re gonna break Rach. B and I got some toys and stuff, might be a bit bigger, but jeez. How the fuck is that gonna fit in a tiny girl like.”

Quinn shrugged. “Lack of gag reflex?” Santana looked back up, a giant smirk on her face. “I should not have said it?” She shook her head. “Please just do not embarrass her too much. I would like to have Christmas Eve dinner with her and my family and her family. And you are not that much bigger than Rachel.”

“I has experience and practice, and I know how to stretch.”

“Oh.”

“Am I going to have to have the safe lesbian sex talk with you?” Quinn turned to her stomach and shook her head. “Cause that shit ain’t kosher, and you can talk to Brit about it.”

“Is it lesbian if I have this?’

“Yes.” Quinn pushed up and stared at her. “You’re a chick, right? And Rach is. Both of you are crazy, and attracted to each other, who is a chick. Therefore, lesbian. Be tee dubs, great distractor, still doesn’t get you out of answering my question.”

Quinn lied flat again and groaned into the pillow. “I do not want to talk about it.”

“Me or Britt. Decide now.”

“Will you behave for ten minutes?”

“Maybe, spill.”

Quinn nodded, but said nothing. The tears had dried a while ago, and while the dark was enough to keep her face hidden, she did not want to actively face Santana. “He asked if I could trust them again. If I could forgive him for what he did on Thanksgiving.”

“Do you?” 

Quinn shrugged.

“Can you?”

Another shrug.

“Do you want to? And words would be awesome. I know you have them. Miss- I have to constantly have to show off in Lit despite being a fucking Punk-bitch.”

“I do not know,” Quinn said. 

“It was a lot to handle, huh? Him telling you that you had a fucked up childhood, which isn’t news, and then apologizing. Like, someone actually apologizing to you. Fuck, when has that happened?”

“Puck, at the beginning of October, he and I had a conversation.” Santana did not need to know more, like how she through a tire at him. 

“Oh,” Santana said.

“You never had to,” Quinn replied. “You or Bri, you two and Rae never have to. I just need you here, and that’s enough.”

“Kay, cause, Snix don’t do apologies.”

“Sure softie.” 

“Fuck you,” Santana said and rolled so she was facing the other wall. “For that you don’t get a big-spoon.”

“Well, I am under orders to cuddle with you from your girlfriend, so if you will not then-“ Santana flipped over and pulled Quinn’s back flush with her chest. 

“Now go the fuck to sleep.”

“I have read that one.”

“I know. Then, do as it says and go the fuck to sleep.” 

Quinn stilled herself as much as possible, letting Santana get the sleep she needed, sleep that Quinn needed, too, but she doubted it would come, not after that conversation. Instead she counted the stars before her eyes and let her breathe even out. Exhaustion carried her to unconsciousness with only the sounds of a dreaming warden and a thundering blizzard to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Quinn talks and thinks too much. Seriously. Ending up cutting out a massive amount of her internal dialogue. Also, apparently some other people can’t shut up either. People talk to much. And I’m not too happy with this chapter, even though it advances the plot/character development, and sets the stage for something big coming up. 
> 
> Sorry bout the delay. Apparently Actuarial tests require studying, who knew.   
> Anyways, first things first: 
> 
> {Soapbox Rant – ignore it if you want}: I have a major bone to pick with authors these days, and it has to deal with depression. There are countless stories out there that a character is depressed because of something horrible that happened to them, that some event kinda “sparked” depression. I don’t mean to say that isn’t right, but it’s starting to feel like we have to justify why a person is feeling the way they do. Why they are depressed. We are justifying mental illness I mean, if nothing horrible happened in a person’s life, what right do they have to feel that way (which is also a reason why we have to stop using rape as drama)? The point being is we, as a community, need to step away and think of the tropes we are using and question just exactly what we are doing when we use them. {/Soapbox Rant}
> 
> So some responses:  
> Mary(guest) – that is a very good question and is addressed here. I couldn’t agree with you more about it goes against the whole thing – but that’s the issues isn’t it. Quinn is cruel and violent. And sometimes, death is mercy. She did tear his shoulder off basically.  
> ShadowCub – Probably, not thinking that far ahead. And yes, she did. And I kinda address the whole Parents finding things out. The chapter refused to end and I had to cut something out, otherwise this would be about 26k update.   
> Jaeway79: I can’t agree any more about why it was a huge mistake, which is kinda the point. We find out what the gnome did to her.   
> Rikkukashi – There’s no shouting match mainly b/c of shock and well, Rachel will care that Quinn is alive than anything Santana does. It’s a bit of a cop out, I know, but it works for the moment. And sets up the boundaries of magic. 
> 
> Question for everyone: Would you prefer more cliffhangers & shorter updates, but sooner, or is the pace/method I’m doing right now better? 
> 
> Once again, Glee is not mine, or we would have gone something like Game of Thrones in the first season and killed off 90% of the cast or tortured them. For the Lulz. Well, not really, but more like I kill off the annoying people and keep plot actually moving.
> 
> Please Read and Review(its like crack to me, so feed the addiction)  
> Always,  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(  
> !-!-!-!-!-!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn pulled tight around the body in front of her, eliciting a squeak and a giggle, then a shimmy of hips. She yawned and inhaled enough hair to fill her mouth. Spitting the hair out and coughing was enough to earn her another giggle. Then she smelled her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Fucking Quinn cockblocking herself here. Seriously, it was supposed to be smut, but noooo, Quinn had to freak out. Again. At least Rachel fixes it. Seriosuly these two are gonna kill me.
> 
> This took a while to write, not because of the content, well, kinda. I dislike writing smut on a train with other people on it. So I worked on a plot bunny that I got from reading a fic on AO3 called Harry’s New Pets by ap_aelfwine. Nevertheless this is completed, and I’ll tell you right now, its smut. That’s about it. There is some plot development, but things have been serious for a while, and I wanted to let the girls relax, or rather, Rachel demanded and stomped the ground for sexy-times with her girlfriend. Both are acceptable theories as to how this chapter came about. 
> 
> Responses: DarkBlueMint: the issue I think I ahd is that the latin form is feminine and for some odd reason I thought I could do the same with it, especially since Santana and her parents follow a female god, so my mistake.  
> Shadowcub: not useless as moreso that it takes certain kind of person to kill another, especially when they are beaten and bloody beneath you.   
> RachelBarbraBerry: haven’t decided yet. I dislike her in canon because of her diva and holier than thou attitude she has, well, most of the show.   
> LaruenKnight13: I don’t know where to begin. Yes, Rachel will be Quinn’s first. As hot as it’d be to have a Quinntana moment, that’s not this story – check out Invisible or the other new one I’ve posted, Rachel’s Pets(working title) – I don’t think Brianna, Remy, and Serafine are gonna move there, but they probably will make an appearance for Christmas, at least. As for the conversation? Welp, just enjoy what happens in this chapter
> 
> Update on other fics: Invisible still exists, just is going slowly, because well, its straight smut and I need to figure out how to make it move faster. I’m working on it.  
> They didn’t have the words: no idea where to take this next. I’m throwing around ideas, so I might post something new.  
> Direct Hits: a album fic based around The Killer’s greatest hits album, oddly titled, Direct Hits with killer!Gron Quinn. Will be posted once I get a few chapters done and work through the plot.  
> Rachel’s New Pets: see above.
> 
> As Always, I own nothing, otherwise, I wouldn’t have ignored canon and made Rachel and Santana hate each other for no other reason than drama. Fuck Ryan Murphy. Also, check out the first scene in Sexy with Holly Holiday is talking about all sexual contact begins with a touch. I think Rachel slyly touches Quinn’s hand. Someone tell me I’m right and the gif set I saw wasn’t a manip.
> 
> Once again, please enjoy, and review, because I love hearing back from you all.  
> Because I can:  
> SurrealSteamPuckk(WeOffendedShadows)

Dec. 7th

Quinn pulled tight around the body in front of her, eliciting a squeak and a giggle, then a shimmy of hips. She yawned and inhaled enough hair to fill her mouth. Spitting the hair out and coughing was enough to earn her another giggle. Then she smelled her.

“Hey,” she said, and tried to push the hair out of her face, combing it down with her nose so she could rest her chin on her head without worrying about swallowing any more hair. Fur balls were not fun. Shut up. Now.

“Hey,” Rachel said. 

Quinn opened one eye first then the other, finding the room to be dark, which did not tell her the time. Rachel’s room was mostly sound proof when the door was closed. She wanted to stretch a bit, but Rachel held her arms in place, leaving her to arch her back and press into her. Specifically press her hips against hers. Bare crotch to bare ass. Quinn pulled her closer, and Rachel giggled again, earning a moan from her. 

“You’re playing with fire.” She felt no cloth beneath her arms and wanted to let go of her and grab hold of her breasts. But Rachel held her tight.

“We’re in private, kitty,” she said. “Though, I’m surprised it’s still here.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“Let me think,” Rachel said, tapping her fingers along her forearms. “It is a valuable tool, pun intended, for our sexual activity, and while I am, was, looking forward to eating you out, is that even still there, an answer I’ll find later, I suppose this is acceptable at the moment.”

“And just want do you intend to do about it?” Quinn purred into her ear, slowly grinding up and down her ass. It should have been wrong at how perfect it fit between them, but she was a flush as could be, and Rachel continued to slide up and down just a little, never hardening her.

Rachel flipped in her arms and freed herself just enough to push on her shoulders until Quinn was flat on her back. Her girlfriend straddled her stomach, her pussy just above her cock. She pushed her shirt the rest of the way up, exposing her breasts to the moderately cool air of the room. “We’ve been in this position before, haven’t we?”

Quinn nodded.

“Remember what I said then?” Rachel looked down between her legs and slide along her abs just a little, until the tip of her cock was just touching her ass. Quinn thrusted once, but she moved away, sliding back up. “Nope, that’s for good girls.”

“I’m a good girl,” Quinn said. “I’ve been a very good girl.” She arched up, but Rachel sat harder against, until her entire weight was on her hips. 

“No, you haven’t.” She pouted, then tried to reach up to pull her closer, just for a kiss to make her forget about whatever she did that wasn’t good. “No, arms to the side. You get to touch when I’m ready for you.”

“But-“

‘Kitty, if you continue to disobey, I’m getting a hair tie.” Rachel slide up and down on Quinn’s stomach, leaving a small trail of her juices. She inhaled and nearly growled, but remained still. 

“For what- oh. Oh. That’s mean.” She brought her arms back down, and Rachel slide back until she was against her cock again. Not really close enough, but she felt the curve just at her tip. 

“Now, as I was saying, kitty. You’ve been misbehaving.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said, looking away and hunching her shoulders. Rachel cupped her chin and made her face her. 

“Do you know what you did wrong?” She shook her head. “Words.”

“No.” She was a good kitty. She didn’t do anything to hurt Rachel or-

“You went and confronted someone you shouldn’t have.” Her eyes raised drastically and she was sure that they entered her hair line. “Santana told me before she and Brittany left for the night.”

“Oh.” Quinn tried to look away, but Rachel held her chin firmly. 

“Do you know why that’s wrong?”

“Because I got hurt?” Rachel shook her head. “Because I hurt someone? Because I didn’t kill him, right?” She took a nipple in her other and squeezed and pulled just hard enough so she followed the grasp. Rachel smiled at her, though it wasn’t necessarily happy smile. “Because I exposed Santana and myself to others?”

“None of that matters,” Rachel said. “What matters is you did it alone.”

“I don’t-“ She started to slide again, going further and further back, further along her cock. She tried to move with it, pushing up on her hips, but Rachel pushed down on her and glared until she stopped. 

“You, in an impulsive act, believed that you can do it all on your own. That you had to. When there are three people here who would do anything for you.” She looked down between her legs and lifted just a bit so she could settle her pussy right over her cock. Quinn moaned and sat up a little to get a better look. “I may not have any power like Santana or Brittany, but you matter, and I will do anything, within reason, for you.”

It was strange to see the head of her cock poking between Rachel’s legs, her clit standing a bit up, her pussy libs glistening as well as her cock. She flexed slightly, and Rachel rose a little bit as she moved just a little bit. 

“For that, you should be punished,” Rachel continued, let go of her nipple, and sat back on her thighs, lifting herself just a bit off of her and removing all pressure off of her. Quinn whined at the loss. “But, you came to me. You ran here, instead of away, when you were hurt.”

She moved a bit further back, until Quinn’s cock was freed and in the air. Rachel slide to the side and took it in her hand and started to rub up and down very slowly. Quinn sat up on her elbows so she could wave the movement better. She tried not to move, but every once in a while, she couldn’t help but to follow the hands motion. Rachel smirked at her, but stopped with the head of her cock in her hands, and rubbed her thumb over the very tip, playing her pre cum and spreading it on her. As if her own pussy juice wasn’t enough. 

“So you can see the position that I’m in, can’t you?”

“Yes.” She said, not taking her eyes off of her hand as it started again. 

“What do you think we should do, kitty? Should I punish you for being foolish to think that I wouldn’t have moved heaven and earth to help you, not matter what? Or should I reward you for running to me, for trusting me to take care of you and do right by you, to protect your secret? It’s a serious choice kitty, and I need you to focus on me.” Rachel paused with her hand at the base, squeezing hard.

Quinn sucked in a break and nodded. 

“So what should I do with you, naughty and good kitty?”

“Reward?”

“Just that?” She nodded furiously. “So I should reward you running away as well, I supposed.”

Quinn wanted to nod; she wanted say that she was a good kitty. She protected someone. She was doing the right thing. And more importantly, she wanted Rachel to know that she was a good kitty. She wanted it. Wanted to please Rachel, to be under her and let her have her way, control her. Consume her and everything that she was. 

The tiger never said a word.

Quinn pulled her legs out from under Rachel, and pushed her away, curling up against the head board. She moved quickly enough that Rachel fell off the bed in what should have been an endearing puff of air. 

But the tiger never said a word. 

Quinn was alone in her mind. There was no presence of her tiger-self pacing and roaring its pleasure at being under Rachel. No pressure to be free and take his mate, make her its own, love and cherish her. Nothing. She felt nothing in her. Just her heart beat in time with her breathes.

“Quinn?” Rachel asked. She sat up slowly from the floor, peaking her head just over the queen bed.

Whatever happened the night before, whatever Santana did, it took the tiger from her. Stole it. She knew it was happening, knew something was off, and yet she was too exhausted to understand it. To naïve to know the price she paid with her life. In an act of stupidity and ignorance, she destroyed a race in a single blow.

Quinn screamed and covered her head, hiding herself as much as possible. She felt her cheeks wet and the water running down her chest. She felt her nails pierce her skin, squeezing her legs closer and closer. 

She was so angry at St. James for hurting, no torturing, that poor creature, she acted without thought. Without understanding. Mom told her that Magic had its price. That it always took something to do something. Equivalent exchange, she called it, though Quinn thought she stole that from some show she was not allowed to watch. She broke St. James under her jaws and claws, but he broke her too. He took what was her away. 

“Star, what’s wrong?” Mr. Berry said from beyond the cracked open door. 

“Dad, just stay there, please,” 

Quinn screamed again, her voice shaking her legs, the headboard and the bed. 

Lord, she was so impulsive. Rachel was right. She was not a good kitty. But she had punished herself already. No one needed to do anything to her. She was more than capable of screwing up her life. Screwing everything up. 

“Star, what’s going on, what’s that sound?” Mr. Berry asked.

“Dad, seriously, stay there, close the door, it’s not safe right now.”

Quinn shook her head, her ears smacking the top of her head hard. She screamed again, though it was cut by a silent sob, slicing through her and pinning her to the thought. Mom said she was their future. The future of their race, the future of an idea that had been forgotten, but should be brought back. Something far bigger than them. She was meant to be important.

“Quinn, please, you need to relax.”

How could she relax? She wanted to yell at her girlfriend. I killed us. I killed my entire people because I was selfish and proud and stupid and impulsive. 

“Lucille Quinn Fabray, you are none of those things and you shut your maw right now. I won’t let anyone speak that way of my love, especially not her.”

Her tiger-self was gone. Dissolved into nothing and Rachel was worried about some words. Meaningless drivel that in the end did not matter. She had ruined everything.

“The only thing you ruined is my sheets and mattress, kitty,” Rachel said. Quinn looked up from her forepaws to see Rachel standing at the edge of the bed, hands on her hips and glaring at her. “I really liked these too, so you better stop this moping for no good reason, kitty. Or I’m gonna get really mad.”

Quinn shook her head and her whiskers brushed the headboard. But he’s gone.

“Who Quinn? Who’s gone?” She crawled very slowly, making sure Quinn followed each one.

Me. I cannot feel him anymore, Rae, he is not there and-

“Who are you referring to?”

“Star, what is going-“

“In a minute Dad!” she said, loud, but not in her loud voice. Rachel was kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees and staring down at her body. “We’re dealing with it now.”

Me. I cannot, Rae, he is gone. I do not what happened. He was there-

“Kitty, I need you to use your words and slow down. Tell me who and be specific.”

My tiger-self, he’s gone. I, he is not there and I killed my race. St. James did destroy me. He destroyed my people. My future. Everything that I was supposed to do. To be. It is gone and-

Rachel grabbed her face and turned her to star into her eyes. She grabbed Quinn’s mane and held her in place, putting her cute noise against her wet one. After a moment, she scratched the side of her neck, running her nails through her thick fur, dragging them until they reached right behind her ears. She closed her eyes and a purr rumbled out of her chest, resting on Rachel’s forehead.

“Sweetie,” Rachel said. “You’re a tiger now.”

She opened her eyes and stood up. But her concentrated weight was too much for the bed to handle, not after the thrashing a four hundred plus pound tiger gave it. The legs snapped and the front half smashed into the ground, Rachel rolling with the motion within an adorable oomph again.

The door slammed open and Mr. Berry stepped in with a – “Dad, why do you have our iron poker in your hands.”

“Star, why is there a tiger in your bed?”

Huh?

“Did it just speak?”

“She, Dad,” Rachel said.

“Rachel, we’re gonna have to talk about your biology course, because clearly, that is a male-“

“It’s Quinn, Dad,” Rachel kicked the bottom of her bed, crossing her arms under her breasts. 

Quinn licked her lips before turning to Mr. Berry. Good Morning, Mr. Berry.

“I, I, Star, what is-“

“Your daughter is sitting here, unharmed, naked mind you, and while I am accustomed to changing in front of males – stop that growling right now, kitty, we’re not done discussing why you are wrong, and you do not want to add to it, especially not now – I do not want that to include my Dad in that group. So.”

Quinn hid her face under her paw and turned to the wall. She slowly lowered it and saw Rachel had covered herself with the remains of a blanket and was glaring at her father, while the man just stood in the doorway. 

“Right, sorry, just-“ Mr. Berry lowered the iron poker slightly, but kept it pointed at Quinn. “That’s a tiger.”

“Dad!” Rachel shouted.

“Right, course, naked daughter,” he stammered, then ran out of the room. 

Rachel sighed and stood up slowly, dragging the sheet with her. Once the door was completely closed, she locked it and dropped the sheet. “You, kitty, are in trouble. So much trouble. And we’re not even going to discuss exactly what your punishment is for ruining my childhood bed.”

Quinn swallowed heavily and hid her face under her paw.

!-!-!-!-!-!

Rachel knew she shouldn’t really be mad at her girlfriend. After all, she did almost die that morning, and had a real wild time prior to that. It was probably very hard and she was traumatized. 

But that was no excuse for ruining her afternoon of sexy times with her girlfriend. She was fucking cock-blocked by her own girlfriend and her freak out. Not cool, Quinn. So not cool. 

Quinn took twenty minutes to calm down enough to “accept” her human form, which included the cock she had been looking forward to since feeling it that morning. 

After Santana woke up around nine with the rest of her sleepover guests, she had a bit more damage control, but most of it left when Mercedes ran out the door without even a goodbye. Blaine was pretty cool with it, continuing the conversation he and Brittany had until they passed out that morning. Kurt and Tina were a bit weary, but she chalked that up to the lack of coffee. Santana had almost crawled down the stairs. Rachel knew enough to have a large cup of straight espresso waiting for her. It was a Saturday, and her best friend forever never woke up before twelve on the weekends. The excessive amount of espresso was only allowed by Brittany, because of the ritual that morning, otherwise Santana would’ve have to deal with just regular coffee, and one shot of expresso at that. 

Daddy was all cheer and smiles as he prepared second breakfast as Brittany had taken to calling it, with Tina immediately joining in with quotes about various weird names for meal times and snacks. Apparently, it was from some movie that Rachel was sure they watched over the summer, but she could not remember the name for the life of her. But things were okay. They were fine, didn’t ask too much questions, though probably because Blaine had promised Kurt to tell him more later. Tina was just way too easy going, and honestly wasn’t too worried about it, as long as she got to seem some real magic at some point, she was cool. 

At least Brittany was able to get a promise out of Mercedes before she ran off, so that pressure was off their shoulders.

Everyone, save the Unholy Trinity, was out of her house by ten. Brittany and Santana stuck around while Santana was forced to talk about her feelings and be utterly adorable in front of Rachel. The conversation was mostly about how Quinn was upset about the whole issue and while the four of them would come up with some plan to make sure they weren’t murdered in their sleep (Brittany’s words), Quinn was feeling guilty and awkward, and her Dad decided that while helping her girlfriend to bed was the best time to ask for forgiveness for being completely rude to her, as well as enter her personal space, also a big no-no in the large user’s manual that is required to operate a Quinn Fabray. Rachel needed to talk with Dad concerning that mistake. 

Prior to lunch, Dad was brought into the conversation (if she was being honest with herself, dragged in by herself), while Daddy laughed the entire time. He was not in as much trouble for Thanksgiving with her, but still, both of them acted in a manner that was no Berry-esque. Rachel had thought she’d made it perfectly clear that Sunday about her disappointment in the whole holiday, but there needed to be a repeat in the message. And she hated repeating herself. 

Once Santana and Daddy stopped laughing, and Dad was at least smirking at her after she brought up the need for a powerpoint, they had a basic lunch, and the two other girls left, after extracting a promise for her and Quinn to visit Brittany’s home on Sunday for dinner, provided Mrs. Fabray was okay with her daughter not being in the house at all. Maybe she should stay next weekend with them.

Rachel waited as long as she could stand, which ended up being until almost four pm, before she left the relative calm of the living room and crept her way upstairs. Dad and Daddy left for shopping and she wanted some alone time with her girlfriend. 

Quinn was passed out, curled into a ball, when Rachel crept into her room. She stripped within seconds and crawled under her covers to her personal bed warmer. Early that morning, she felt the cock she had some very naughty dreams about underneath Daddy’s old flannel shirt that Dad wanted him to throw out, but she used to stay warm some nights during the spring. Now, that it was there, she wanted to feel as close as possible to her kitty. 

There may have been the slight encourage of sexy times, but that was neither here nor there.

And Quinn had to cock block her. Her own girlfriend. 

Hence her phone call in her room to Brittany.

Rachel sat in her computer chair, facing away from her broken bed, the shattered remains of her childhood bed and pink, soft sheets. She threw on a Cheerio sweatshirt and a pair of panties to talk to her Dad about him barging in without knocking and the fact that she required a new bed. Something a bit sturdier. Dad avoided looking at her the entire conversation, which was fine. Quinn remained upstairs, waiting for her. 

“Hey Rachie,” Brittany said. “Has Quinn been misbehaving?”

“In a few ways,” Rachel said. She had given up on trying to understand just how the blonde seemed to know, well, everything.

“Is that you’re using the ball gag I got you for Christmas?” Like that.

“Amongst other things,” Rachel replied. She ran her fingers Quinn’s hair as she nuzzled against her bare thigh. 

“Sorry bout having to use the gifts early, but something happened huh?”

“You could say that. Is there anyway Santana is up and moving?”

“Yep,” Brittany said. “She’s talking with Mom, I’ll go and get her.” Rachel nodded and scratched the little hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck and the purr rumbled through the ball gag into her thigh. She looked down and smirked at her girlfriend.

Currently, Quinn’s hands were held apart with a bar with cuffs of black fur, though in truth that wasn’t the best part. She hadn’t lied about the hair tie, though it was more like a ribbon, tied tightly around Rachel’s cock, not Quinn’s despite its attachment to her, it was an important distinction, with a little bow. A soft buzzing came from her pussy, which was really exciting that she had both, an egg she inserted and turned on. 

She had to give her tigress some credit, Quinn didn’t try to fight her at all on her punishment. And her need to act all cat-like now, including leaning against her leg and rubbing her shoulder against her. It was really adorable. Just needed her ears. 

“She’s on her way.”

“Thanks, Brittany.”

“So, how are things?”

Rachel laughed and switched the phone to her other hand. Quinn leaned against her legs, dragging her perfect skin, saved the brown patch with cracks stretching down her shoulder, along her until she reached the other side of Rachel. She began to rub her nose and jaw on the other side. 

“Good kitty,” she said, pulling the phone a way a bit and scratched the back of her neck again. “A bit needy, but I suppose that is what it means to be a kitty.”

“Quinnie being adorable?”

“Always. She’s currently nuzzling me.” She pulled back and tapped her with her forehead before resting on her thigh, eyes shining up at her. 

Brittany squealed. “Think me and Sannie can see her, then?”

“You want to see Quinn when she’s being punished as kitty?” Quinn pulled away and shook her head. Rachel smiled at her

“Yep, it’d be fun.” Quinn shifted away from her hand, even though Rachel stretched out to continue to scratch the back of her neck. Her whole body shook as she shook her head. Her cock shook too. It looked cute with the little bit of precum on the tip. 

Rachel stood up and walked over to her kitty, but she kept backing away, even turning away from her and crawling to the closet. That would not do. 

“Kitty,” Rachel said. She paused as Quinn stopped at the wall and spun against, her legs gained no traction on the carpet as she tried to push herself through it. Brittany laughed again. “Really, kitty. Don’t be scared.”

Quinn shook her head again and tucked her knees under her chin, hooking her arms over her legs. Rachel kneeled before her and offered her a soft smile. 

A door slammed on the other side of the line, and Brittany’s laughter was torn away. “Sup, Hobbs.”

“Hey, Santana,” Rachel said. “Kitty, it’s okay. Everything is fine.” She reached forward, but Quinn refused to let her touch her skin. She shook her head again. 

“What, Q misbehaving?” Santana laughed. “Girl has some cajones to do that.”

“Be nice, Santana.” She tucked her legs under her and sat across from her. “She’s had a rough day so far.”

“Yeah,” Brittany said. “You’re on speaker now, Rachie. Be nice, Sannie, or I’ll do the same to you.”

“Fine, whatevs,” Santana said, huffing into the speaker. “What do you want? Mom wanted help with dinner and I was actually being helpful for once.”

“A shocker,” Rachel said. “Did the spell you did this morning do something else to Quinn?” She leaned forward again, only to have Quinn refuse her touch. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Relax, kitty, they won’t get to see you like this. It’s for me only.”

“Poo,” Brittany said.

“B’s right, but fine. And no, it shouldn’t have. What’s wrong? Q still hurt? I can come over and-“

“She’s fine physically, and – Quinn stop squirming and hold still.” She did, but she refused to look at her. “Santana, would something have happened to the tiger?”

“Huh?”

“Rachie, whats wrong?”

“Quinn freaked out a bit while we were,” Rachel trailed off. “Yes, well, and she kinda freaked out and turned in the middle of my bed. Started to thrash about and everything. Roared too, which was kinda adorable, except my Dad burst in. Saw me naked.”

Santana laughed and Brittany must have slapped her or something. Maybe pulled her ear. “Ow, okay, fine I’ll be nice. Continue.”

“Thank you. Anyways, Quinn spoke, as a the tiger, which was weird, by the way, and was rambling on and on – you were Kitty, stop that, kay – about the tiger not being there anymore. Calling it a he and everything.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Santana said.

“I do,” Brittany said. Silence filled the phone for a good twenty seconds, and Quinn simply hid behind her cuffs and knees, sniffling. 

“Kay,” Santana replied. “An explanation would be cool, Britts.”

“Oh right, sorry.” 

Rachel scooted forward a little bit. Quinn tried to squirm away, but she just reached between her legs and grasped her cock. Her kitty stopped moving and opened her eyes, her eyebrows shooting up. Rachel smiled as Quinn’s eyes rolled back a bit when as she slid her hand up and down. “I’m listening, Brittany,” Rachel said.

“There is no tiger anymore,” she replied. 

“Quinn’s still here though.” Rachel slid even closer to her until her knees were touching Quinn’s feet. “I’m with her right now.”

“No, I mean,” Brittany said, and trailed off. There was a slight murmur and mumbling but she didn’t hear anything specific. Quinn relaxed a bit, lifted her arms, and spread her legs, stretching them to both sides of Rachel. She didn’t stop rubbing her.

“Slow down, sweetie,” Santana said. 

“What? Oh, kay. No, Rachel, it’s like, I think, that there is no difference between them, so why would she feel it. There is not tiger.”

“Huh?” Rachel paused, and Quinn scooted closer until there was only a foot between them. She offered a smile to her gagged kitty and tightened her grip. Quinn leaned until she was resting against her chest, staring down at Rachel’s hand. 

“I get it,” Santana said.

“Well, that makes only two of us, so please, inform the only one with Quinn so we can at least put her at ease.”

“Fine,” Santana said. “It’s like Quinn hadn’t fully accepted what she was. That it was meant to be two parts of one, instead of one part of one. In this case, summation is greater than addition.”

“So what does that-“

“Rach,” Santana sighed, “it means that there is no difference any more. The tiger is Quinn fully. And she is the tiger. The tiger is her. All that separate started to dissolve once she attacked St. Fucktard, and finished when we did that ritual I suppose.”

“But she’s always been that way.” Rachel kissed the top Quinn’s head and slowly started again. Her kitty exhaled heavily onto her chest. “She’s always been the tiger.”

“No,” Brittany said. “It’s always been Quinn and the tiger. Two ideas. It was easier for her to deal with, to think about it that way. Partly so she could blame some of her actions on it.”

“Like her wanting to break your hips that first week in the hallway,” Santana added, and Rachel heard another light slap. 

“What? Oh. Quinn was lying to me?” Rachel asked.

“No, not at all,” Brittany said. “She was lying to herself. Sweetie, magic is based on perception. It’s always been that way. Every person has to filter the world through something, and sometimes to make it easier on ourselves, it means lying to ourselves.”

“So Q struggled being a pressed lemon and all,” Santana continued, “that this whole tiger race crap-“

“It is not crap, Santana I’d middle name you if I knew it Lopez,” Rachel said. “It’s important to her.”

“It’s Maria, Rachie,” Brittany said.

“B, don’t tell her.”

“As your BFF, she has a right to know.”

“Right,” Rachel said. “Now, back to this importance of Quinn transforming into a tiger in my bed, thus destroying it. How did this happen?” Rachel stopped and sat back a bit to lift Quinn’s chin up. You okay? She mouthed. A bit a drool fell from her chin and a gentle nod was all that she received. Do you want to listen? Quinn shrugged her shoulders. Would you rather listen? Another shrug. Rachel glared at her and squeezed tightly; her kitty would not be disrespectful and not answer. She finally nodded very slowly. 

“I’m getting there,” Brittany said. “Right, so magic is how we perceive and filter the world, and that veil being lifted from our eyes to see something knew. The first time it happened to Quinn –“

“You know what?” Rachel said, “This sounds like something you should tell her, since I’m probably just gonna be lost and everything.” She sat back and held the phone between her shoulder and head as she released Quinn’s wrists. “Now, kitty, you’re gonna take the phone and listen while Brittany is kind enough tell you what has happened, okay?” Quinn nodded, and reached up for the ball gag. “No, that stays in. In fact, the only thing you may do with your hands is hold the phone, understand?” Another nod. “Good.”

“Wanky,” Santana said. 

“Tots,” Brittany added. 

“Here’s Quinn,” Rachel handed the phone to Quinn’s shaking hands. “Be good and listen.” She smirked at her Kitty and kissed her check.

“Hey Q,” Santana said. “How’s it hanging?”

“That’s rude,” Brittany added. “Clearly she is, given what Rachel is doing.”

“What is she doing?” 

Quinn moaned and leaned back against the wall as Rachel licked the length.

“Breaking her vegan vows.”

“Oh, okay,” Santana said, “that’s fine, I guess.”

“Grow up,” Brittany said. “We’ve done much worse, and at school. You’re to pay attention to me, Quinnie, okay?” Quinn nodded. “Good. Now, when you first accepted your tiger, back at the beginning of the summer, and everything, right? That moment, you thought of the tiger as this separate part of you. Some other entity that worked with you, and while you considered yourself, wasn’t really? With me so far.”

Rachel sucked on her head, then drew back and blew on it lightly. Quinn shivered.

“But now, after everything that has happened, that difference is gone. Because you took the blame for the tiger, you didn’t use it as an excuse or explanation. You were the one who attacked St. James, you were the one who saved that life. You were the one who created a haven for people, an Eden. That was all you. Not the tiger. You said so yourself with Sannie.” 

Quinn moaned as Rachel went a bit further down, her hand sliding along her and pausing at the base. She pushed two fingers into her pussy, and Quinn bucked her hips. “I guess that answers that question,” Rachel whispered, then took even more of her into her mouth, keeping her fingers where they were. 

“So without that different, no matter how small you thought it was, without that, the tiger became you, and you became the tiger. Now, you because you have no separation, you base form is probably with the cock in Rachel’s mouth.”

“And hand,” her girlfriend said, and licked the precum off of Quinn. 

“Wanky,” Santana said. 

“Stop that, Sannie, we’re talking,” Brittany said.

“But they’re doing it,” she replied.

“I said stop.”

“Fine.” 

“Quinn, does this make more sense?” She nodded, and bucked her hips again. Rachel pushed her fingers even deeper, right to her knuckles. As she slowly drew back, dragging her tongue along her, she curled her fingers and pull up. Quinn’s hips followed. “Good, should I let you guys, go?”

“No,” Rachel said. “Why don’t you get Quinn caught up on things that happened last night/this morning?” She smiled up at her, a wicked glint in her eye. “In fact, take you time and talk about the school work she didn’t focus on Friday because of her blaming her tiger for being horny.” She stopped for a second and took the phone from Quinn, her own juices covering it now. A few buttons, and she handed it back to her girlfriend. “Speakers on. Please continue.”

“Right on,” Brittany said.

“If I can’t fuck myself, can I go?” Santana asked.

“Well, Mom did want help with dinner so I suppose. But you’ll owe me later.”

“I look forward to it.” Quinn could almost picture the smirk that went with her words. Then her eyes rolled back as Rachel went further and further down, swallowing her until her nose pushed against her crotch. 

For the next half hour, Brittany talked and talked and talked, and Rachel sucked, licked, bit(lightly), pulled and pushed on Quinn. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn’t hear a word that Brittany had said for ten minutes because Rachel had started to finger her, instead of just holding them there, as she sucked her cock. 

Drool dripped down from her gag, and she fought another moan as a throat wrapped itself around her. Please, she begged, but couldn’t get the words out. 

Rachel smirked around her cock. It was hers, despite being attached to her girlfriend. It was only fair if she enjoyed it as much as possible, especially if it was permanent. When they were ready to hit a home run, if her knowledge of the baseball metaphor was correct, they would have to take their time, but for now, Quinn could suffer with being blown and now being able to cum.

“Such a good kitty,” Rachel whispered as she pulled away, jerking her off with one hand. “Keeping my cock nice and hard for me. I think it’s gotten harder.” She let go of her cock and grabbed one of Quinn’s hand. She had grabbed her own hair in order to not grab Rachel’s, and she gently pulled the fingers loose from the fine blonde locks. “Want to feel it?” 

Quinn nodded, and more drool dripped onto her breasts. “good kitty,” Rachel said, and lowered her tiger’s hand to her cock. Immediately, she started to jerk it off, squeezing and pulling on the skin. “Feel it. Feel your blood pulsing in it, how wet I made it sucking on it, licking it. You’re hand doesn’t feel as good as my throat, does it?” 

She shook her head.

“What about my hand? Is your hand better than mine?” She pulled her two fingers out of Quinn’s pussy and sat back, leaning against the remains of her bed. She spread her legs wide, her feet on the outside of Quinn’s. She licked her two fingers slowly, so good, pushing them in and out of her mouth. 

Quinn nodded, though kept jerking on it. 

“So hot, Kitty. Watching you try to cum with that, maybe your pussy would work a bit better? Try it for me? Or do you need something to look at?” She pulled her sweatshirt off. 

“In fact, Brittany?” Rachel said, trailing a hand down from her neck to her nipples. She gripped one in her left hand, Barbara it was hard, while the right slide down her side to soaked thong. She swallowed a moan and leaned forward when she pushed it aside and brushed her clit. “Can, can you-“

“No worries,” Brittany said. “I’m horny now and gonna go ravish Sannie. Enjoy.”

“Will do.” A click and the phone fell out of Quinn’s hand. She brought the now free hand to her own breasts.

“Good kitty,” Rachel said. “Just keep jerking off. Think of my throat and how wonderful it feels. Think of how it grips your entire length, sliding slowly down it. It begs for your cum. Did you know that? My tongue, my throat, my stomach. Me, I want it so bad, for you to just cum inside me, and fill me with it.”

Quinn moaned and thrust her hips in the air as she violently pulled on her cock. Rachel traced small circles around her clit, then slide up and down her lips. 

“Imagine that it’s my pussy,” Rachel said, “It begs for it even now. Look at it soaking my thong as it pants for my hard cock to thrust into me.” 

Quinn opened her eyes and stared at her crotch. Her hand moved in hard, quick jerks, while her other pulled on her nipples, stretching them even further. “Do you want to cum, Kitty?” She nodded rapidly. “I can be persuaded to do let you. To let my fine cock attached to my kitty be free. The question is have you been punished enough?”

Quinn nodded again. Lord, she had been punished. Precum dripped (that shouldn’t be possible, that should not be possible) from her cock, no Rachel’s cock. She owned it. Just like she owned Kitty. It dripped, and no matter how hard she squeezed or fast she jerked on it, she couldn’t cum. She wanted to tear the hair tie away, but Rachel said no. She wasn’t allowed to. That didn’t stop her from trying.

“Maybe you can prove to me you’ve learned your lesson about listening to me,” Rachel said. “Stop.”

It took a moment, but Quinn’s hand finally listened to the instruction.

“Come here.”

She crawled slowly towards her, trying not brush Rachel’s cock against her legs. 

“Good, lie down here,” Rachel said, point in front of her. Quinn did as she was told, her hips right in front of Rachel. “Very good.” She slid her thong down and crawled towards her head. 

“Now, here’s the plan. I’m gonna take this off, and you’re gonna stay very still, okay? Can you follow those directions, kitty?” Quinn nodded, and Rachel unhooked the gag. After she removed it, she kept her mouth open in the same position. “Such a good kitty.” Rachel reached over and grabbed a nipple and pulled it. 

Quinn didn’t move, but a gruggle of a moan escaped her throat. She stared up at Rachel, eyes darting over her. They had never been completely naked like this, usually there was at least some barrier between them. “A very good kitty. Are you ready for the next instruction? You can nod.” 

Quinn nodded rapidly. 

“You’re so cute when you’re anxious,” Rachel said. “Here’s the deal I’m offering. I’m gonna straddle your face, because it is the second most appropriate seat since I’m so fucking horny right now. Then I’ll remove that tie and suck you off. If you can get me off before you cum, the tie stays off. If you can’t, then it stays on until Monday afternoon. I’m so glad you agreed to this.”

Quinn didn’t move. She certainly did not agree to anything like that, but Rachel had that sweet and sinister smile on her face, and she relaxed and tightened her grip on her nipple, pulling it until she was gonna tear it off then releasing it, only to start again. Rachel’s cock rested against her stomach. 

“Ready?” Quinn nodded again. Rachel threw a leg her face, and Quinn smiled as she lowered herself, but paused a few inches from her face.

Before Rachel could even lean forward, before the hair tie could be removed, Quinn reached up, grabbed her ass, and pulled her pussy to her open mouth, running her tongue along her lips. Her girlfriend moaned and ground a little on her, using her breasts as stands to hold herself up. “You have an awesome tongue, kitty,” Rachel said, and she licked her again. “even though you’re cheating, lets get this started.”

Rachel leaned forward again and gripped her cock. She ran her hand up and down its length before rolling the hair tie up from the base. She paused at the tip. “Remember, you can’t cum until I do, or this goes back on for the rest of the weekend. And I’m sending you texts the entire time.” Quinn sucked on her clit, and Rachel dropped from her elbows to rest on her thighs. “Glad you agree.”

She pulled off the hair tie, then pushed her entire length down her throat. Quinn thrust up, and Rachel smirked as her chin rubbed her. Win or lose, she would cum out on top in this one. 

Quinn licked her folds, and each time Rachel pulls back to just the tip in her mouth, she moans into her. So close, and it hurts so much. Her thighs are taught, and she’s squeezing her abs and every muscle she could think of, as Rachel licks her from base to head, before deepthroating her again. 

Rachel pulled back and held Quinn in her hand, squeezing as hard as possible. She ground down on her again and lifted up just enough to watch as Quinn’s tongue darted across her folds before trying to disappear even further into her. Then her kitty pulled her flush again, and found her clit once more.

“God and fuck, Kitty,” Rachel said, rested against her thigh again. “So talented.”

It doesn’t take long for her, and she honestly wanted her Kitty to win, if only because she is a kind and benevolent dictator. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be easy.

As the pressure slowly built in her, Rachel pushed her into her mouth fully, then dragged her along her throat, trying to swallow it as it exited her. Quinn’s moans vibrated against her, and she returned the favor as a finger, then two pushed in to her. 

With Quinn in her mouth, Rachel shuttered and arched slightly as everything that she had been working towards since Brittany called finsihed. She pressed down hard onto her kitty and squeezed her legs over her ears. A scream was muffled by the cock in her throat, and she knew she was probably leaving marks on Quinn’s legs from where she gripped so tightly. 

Just as she finsihed, just as she got the tip of her cock in her mouth, Quinn came, filling her mouth and then some. She swallowed once, and then tried to keep as much as possible in her mouth. 

Rachel pushed up off of her slowly, and swung her legs over her face. Quinn was lying so still, barely breathing through her mouth, and her entire face had a nice shiny glint to it. She smiled and covered her mouth.

Rachel leaned over to and pressed her lips to hers, Quinn responded as she was trained to and kissed back, eagerly despite her exhaustion, opening her mouth only to receive the surprised. Her eyes opened up and tried to pull back, but Rachel grabbed her hair and held her in place as she shared some of herself with her. Once the entire mouthful was gone, she pulled back and kissed her nose, running her fingers through her soaked hair. “Swallow kitty.”

Quinn stared at her, looking for something, then nodded and did as she was told. “Good girl. Good Kitty.” 

“I’m good?” Quinn asked in a smile voice.

“very good,” Rachel replied, rubbing her forehead on hers. “A very good kitty. All is forgiven since you listened and did as you were told. You understand why you were punished, right?” she nodded. “Then we can try to avoid having to do this again, or maybe make it a bit longer, kay?” 

Another nod.

“Good, let’s go shower and change, then you can go home and explain to your mom when you hot sundresses might be out of the question until you can think of an explanation to your awkwardly colored shoulder.”

“Shower? Together?” Quinn asked. Rachel sat back on her hunches and held her hands. 

“Of course, have to make sure my kitty is all clean,”

“Rach, I don’t think-“

“Just cleaning, I promise,” she said. “But if the need comes this weekend, I expect you to take care of yourself, don’t let yourself wait this long kay? In return for letting you play with my toy, I expect you to tell me in detail later.” 

She stood up, pulling Quinn with her, and dragged her girlfriend to the en suite bathroom. 

Yes a lot had happened, and things had drastically changed, but at least, her girlfriend was with her, they finally had some more sexy-times, and most importantly, Quinn was trusting her, almost completely. 

She smacked her ass to get into the shower and started it on cold. Quinn shrieked and immediately twisted it to a bit warmer. Rachel joined in, and smiled. She kissed her and relaxed into her girlfriend’s embrace.


End file.
